


melt with you

by pancakepaladin



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Injury Recovery, Keith is adopted, M/M, Older Brother Shiro, college setting i guess my dudes, figure skater keith, hockey goalie hunk, light shallura if you squint
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-10
Updated: 2017-11-14
Packaged: 2018-12-13 11:22:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 29,482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11758788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pancakepaladin/pseuds/pancakepaladin
Summary: i'd stop the world and melt with you.Hunk Garrett, star goalie for the Arus Lions varsity hockey team meets Keith Kogane, grumpy, lonely figure skater while taking yoga classes for physical therapy. Starring Keith as the repressed nerd, Lance as the the ultimate wingman ever, Pidge as the voice of reason, and Hunk as himself. Nonsense and love ensues.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> hi hello this is me writing 60,000+ words of keith waxing poetic of how cute and hot and amazing hunk garrett is, let's see how much of that i actually am able to post! this is based on a one sentence prompt i saw in the heith tag literally ages ago - hockey player hunk, figure skater keith, they both have sports injuries and meet in yoga class suggested by their physical therapist. i obviously took that idea and went crazy with it. so if it was your suggestion, please enjoy. i know nothing about hockey or skating or physical therapy so let me know if i got something super wrong! they're also around college aged here, anywhere from 19-23, i wasn't really bothered to come up with exact ages quite yet.

_I didn’t know I was lonely_   
_‘til I saw your face_   
_I didn’t know I was broken_   
_‘til I wanted to change_   
_I wanna get better, better, better, better._

Hunk had almost forgotten his bag of equipment again, so he was shuffling back into the ice rink to make his way to the locker room to grab it. It was late in the afternoon, after most of the practices were over. Hunk was star goalie for the Arus Lions, the varsity hockey team. He had fractured his arm during one of the final games of last season, and was currently sitting out for the time being. He was attending physical therapy religiously, and his doctor said he’d be back on the ice really soon. He still attended all the practices, so he could stay on his game even if he couldn’t skate. Coach Shiro insisted he still attended the practices and made notes of the new plays and helped with the equipment, and help him watch the team of rowdy boys. It helped that his two best friends were also on the team – Lance McClain, star forward, and Pidge (Katie Holt) who could zip up and down the ice like nobody’s business.

There wasn’t supposed to be anybody around, except maybe Coran on the Zamboni or someone sweeping up, so it surprised Hunk when he heard music from the speakers on the main rink. He shifted the duffel bag full of goalie equipment on his shoulder, and walked slowly towards the source of the music. He stood at the top of the bleacher stairs, watching the source of the music. On the ice was a slender figure, dressed in all black, even their skates. He was moving in perfect unison with the music, all languid movements of long arms and legs, skating slow, easy circles around the abandoned rink, little spins on the tips of his skates here and there. Hunk was mesmerized, and didn’t realize he was stepping down the bleacher stairs, one by one, to get a closer look.

The skater had dark, thick, black hair that was tied into a tiny ponytail, and he wore a black turtleneck with a crimson sweater, black fingerless gloves, and black sports leggings. Even his skates were black. It was a stark contrast, the red on black of the skaters’ wardrobe, moving gracefully and easily over the white of the ice. As Hunk got closer, he realized that he recognized the boy. He was in his physical therapy class. His name was Keith, Keith Kogane – and he was Shiro’s younger brother; adopted. He didn’t know very much about him besides that; that he was Shiro’s brother and was a figure skater, and was also in physical therapy. Hunk assumed whatever injury put Keith in therapy was worse than his, since the therapist spent a little more time with Keith than the others, and Hunk had noticed an ace bandage around Keith’s left leg whenever he wore shorts to therapy. Keith usually wore an expression akin to a grumpy, wet cat, and didn’t talk to anyone in their class but the therapist, and even then they were short exchanges and a roll of the eyes when they turned their back to another patient. He was attractive, though, despite the grumpy expressions, and Hunk figured he’d be even more attractive if he ever smiled.

He had a long, lean frame and soft, pale looking skin that contrasted well with his black hair; which was thick, and long and curled at the base of his neck. His legs were long as were his arms and fingers, and the tiny baby ponytail he’d pulled his hair into was kind of cute. Lance had said it was a mullet and snickered at it once, he remembered, as the hockey team had passed the secondary rink where the figure skaters were. Keith was one of the few male skaters at the rink – and he was stretching as they passed.

“Check out the mullet on that one. Geez” Lance had commented, making the other boys laugh.

Hunk wasn’t one for laughing at other people’s looks, but had forced out a laugh anyway at the time.

It was almost like watching a dream before his eyes, well, that was until Keith geared up for a jump. He leapt into the air, spinning, and Hunk expected him to land just as gracefully as the rest of his routine, until he didn’t. Keith hit the ice, hard, on his side instead of sticking the landing. Hunk gasped and flinched at the same time the dark haired boy cursed and hit the ice with his fist, then looked over his shoulder at the intrusion, glowering darkly from under his dark bangs. Hunk felt like he was getting daggers glared at him as the skater pushed himself upright, brushing himself off, and skate-limping a little to edge of the rink.

“Are you okay?” Hunk had asked, now only a few stairs away from the edge of the ice, watching Keith grab his water bottle and take a sip. He wiped his mouth on the back of his arm.

“I’m fine. Who are you?” he demanded icily, still gripping his water bottle. Hunk glanced over at it, small smile when he saw it was red with various stickers all over it – one of which was a cat with sunglasses on.

“Oh, uhm, I’m Hunk. Hunk Garrett. You’re, uh, Keith right? I’m in your physical therapy class? I think?” Even though he knew he was. Keith’s expression softened, but only slightly.

“Oh. Right. I thought you looked familiar” Keith replied, bringing his hand back to his neck and rolling it slightly. Hunk found himself distracted, but only a little, at the other boy’s long, elegant neck from under his turtleneck.

“Don’t you hang out with that McClain kid?” Keith asked, narrowing his eyes, hands on his hips and one skate propped on the tip of the blade.

“Oh, Lance? Yeah, he’s kind of my best friend.”

“He’s kind of a dick” Keith said, readjusting his gloves and tapping his skates on the ice.

“Ah well. Yeah. He can be. He doesn’t ever mean anything by it though…” Hunk attempted to defend his friend. But he couldn’t deny that Lance could be a handful, and definitely was pretty mouthy to the figure skaters. Was it some unspoken rule that hockey players and figure skaters didn’t get along?

“So what, did you come to laugh at me like the rest of your team mates do?” Keith interrupted, hands on his hips, dark expression back. He just now noticed the beads of sweat on Keith’s forehead, and the steady rise and fall of his chest now that he had stopped moving.

“Laugh at you? Why would I- Geez that looks like it hurts!” Hunk exclaimed when he saw Keith readjust his glove, and a dark red scrape appeared up the side of his hand. Keith noticed where he was looking and quickly covered it back up.

“I said I’m fine! And all the other hockey players laugh at me, I’m not deaf, I can hear over the music and chatter. Especially Lance. He’s got a voice like nails on a chalkboard”

Keith finished quietly, looking to the side, crossing his arms. Hunk watched Keith’s expression change for a split second to pained, and then back to angry and guarded.

“I … I don’t laugh at you. I think… I think you looked really great out there” Hunk finally said, motioning to the ice. Keith looked up at him, blushing a little. Or maybe that was the sun setting outside, shining in through the huge windows high above the rink and bleachers, who knew. He sighed, climbing off the ice, and going to sit down on the bench next to his things. Red duffel bag, red blade guards.

“Yeah, maybe, until I ate shit on the ice” Keith mumbled, unlacing his skates. Hunk shrugged.

“Hey, we all make mistakes” he tried to offer a smile.

“I’m not supposed to…” Keith said under his breath, perhaps not meant for Hunk to hear. Hunk’s shoulders slumped at the comment, and he rubbed the back of his neck, looking to the side. His phone chirped through the silence, and he fished it out of his pocket, seeing that it was Lance asking him where he was. They were supposed to meet down at the diner after practice with Pidge, their usual hang out, but Hunk had apparently forgotten about this the minute he saw Keith skating.

“Oh, so, uh, I gotta go. Sorry for bothering you during your practice, Keith” he apologized, slinging the bag back over his shoulder. Keith looked up at him with soft yet tired eyes, leaning back on his hands on the bench. Hunk was taken by the soft look directed at him and felt his heart flutter a bit. Keith shrugged his shoulders slightly, looking back towards the ice listlessly, taking another drink from his water bottle.

“It wasn’t a bother.”

Hunk couldn’t help the smile he wore a he climbed back up the stairs and made his way out of the rink. He was so distracted by almost bumped right into Allura; Allura was the physical therapy doctor and Coran’s niece. Allura was a figure skater in her past as well, but turned to the medical field instead.

“Oh! Pardon me, Hunk!” she smiled. She was not only a doctor but a constant presence around the rink, and seemed to know everyone’s name. As Hunk continued his way out, he heard Allura’s voice change from pleasant to scolding as she turned the corner towards the ice.

 

“Keith, were you on the ice?!” her sharp, accented voice asked, clear as day down the stairs. Keith sighed and rolled his eyes, taking his last skate off and looking over his shoulder boredly.

“Maybe” he replied, wiping off his skates and not standing to greet Allura. He could feel her standing behind him and could feel the annoyance radiating off her. He could just imagine her hands on her hips and her dark expression, marring her pretty face. He sighed again and glanced over his shoulder, not surprised at all by her furrowed brows and sky blue eyes. She wore her pale hair up in a bun, little tendrils hanging down past her ears, a pink puffy vest over an ivory sweater, dark leggings and snow boots. Her expression softened slightly, relaxing her arms at her sides.

“Keith, you know you’re not supposed to be out on the ice yet. Not until you’re fully healed and back in decent condition. You’re only going to exacerbate your injuries more if you ignore doctor’s orders.”

If you ignore me, my orders, is what she meant though. Allura was not only his new coach and trainer, but his physical therapy doctor as well.

“You know I know what I’m talking about, Keith” she added in a low voice. Allura had been a figure skater in her prime as well. She was a bit of a local legend, and had been well on her way to the Olympics with a bright future ahead of her in the sport. However, She had suffered an injury not so different from him – but said injury became career-ending when she had pushed herself too hard, and too much, and eventually was unable to skate competitively again. She had gone into retirement from skating at a very young age, but instead turned to medicine, to perhaps help others get over their injuries properly, and make it back into their sports, unlike her. She had been there, and watched him fall, which was probably why she had agreed to coach and train him now.

Shiro had refused to let Keith go back to being coached by Sendak after the accident – even though Keith had complained and argued and fought even from his hospital bed with his leg bandaged and raised and god knows how many stitches. But Shiro had been steadfast in his refusal to ever let Sendak near Keith again, no matter how many former Olympians Sendak had coached. Shiro had apparently come to Allura, and asked her sincerely if she would come out of retirement to coach and train Keith instead, after his injuries healed that is. They both believed Keith still had a future in figure skating; that is if Keith would ever let his injuries heal properly. It had been almost year since the Preliminaries, since his fall, since his injuries. A year since he’d been in the emergency room, and holed up in his bedroom, bed ridden. A year since Shiro threatened Sendak with a restraining order if he ever went near Keith again. A year since Keith had a panic attack, brought on by Sendak’s rough training, when Keith fell on his own skates not even five minutes into his routine and almost sliced his muscle with skate blades and fractured his wrist in front of an arena full of people. People with camera phones. People who were Olympic scouts and sponsors. A year since he’d injured himself and missed out on his chance at the Nationals.

He’d fallen into a deep depression after that, morbidly embarrassed of what had occurred, and only exacerbated by the mandatory bed rest the doctor had put him on. He couldn’t have walked if he tried, the blade had left a huge gash up the back of his leg, which probably took the longest to heal, besides his severely bruised ego. He refused to use the crutches the doctor gave him, instead limping around pathetically or just not leaving the bed or couch at all. He didn’t know what to do with himself if he wasn’t able to skate. This led him to spending hours on Conspiracy Theory message boards and reading countless books and magazines about alien abductions, cryptids and unsolved mysteries; anything to distract him from the fact that he wasn’t on the ice. Or at Nationals. Or anywhere near the Olympics.

Shiro had tried to take him to the doctor to discuss his anxiety, brought on by too tough coaching, and depression, brought on by his accident and injury, but Keith steadfastly refused that too. Even when Shiro had tried to trick him into going, when they rolled up to the hospital, he had yelled, hot tears in his eyes. “Can’t you just let this happen? Just let me be upset for a while?!”

That day had been the worst day of his life, the first day in his life where he hadn’t been the perfect student, the perfect skater, brought down by stupid anxiety, and brought down by something that was all in his head. The day ten, twenty people recorded his fall with their camera phones, an entire arena of people and judges and scouts witness to the laughter, so now the worst day of his life was immortalized online for any idiot to see.

He remembered the first time he’d come across one of the videos – browsing through his skating sites on the tablet just to punish himself – laying haphazardly on the couch, leg still bandaged, wrist still in a splint. Shiro was in the kitchen, sorting through mail. Keith felt his stomach drop as a bold post title came up on the bright little screen. Eight Time Northeast Title Winner Takes a Terrifying Tumble at Winter Prelims – followed by a video. Keith shot up on the couch, knuckles going white as he clutched the tablet.

“No” he whispered, but felt himself pressing the play button anyway.

And there it was, video evidence, on a very prominent skating website.

He didn’t even get three minutes into the video before hot tears blurred his vision, “Keith? What’s wrong?” he vaguely heard Shiro ask from the kitchen, but it felt like all his senses were collapsing around him.

“No!” he yelled, throwing the tablet across the couch, video still playing. It felt like it was all he could hear, and he pressed his hands over his ears. Shiro was there in a heartbeat, holding onto his shoulders, trying to anchor him, something that was suggested by the doctor if he had more panic attacks.

“The…the … the video!!” Keith managed to cry, pointing at the trilling tablet. Shiro’s arms dropped, picking up the tablet, eyebrows furrowed as he watched. The laughter started from the tiny speakers, and Keith heard himself practically wail, “Why would someone post that?” he sobbed through hiccupping breaths, horrified that he seemed to be having another panic attack, and didn’t know how to stop it.

“What the hell? Why would anyone record this in the first place..?” Shiro asked as the video ended, scrolling up and down as if he was trying to find a way to delete the video.

“Uhm” he started, seeing the related videos start to pop up. There were multiple copies of the video, some of them with much worse titles than what was on the skating blog.

“What?” Keith moaned, sitting up and staring through eyes blurred by hot tears, rubbing his face on his sleeve.

“I don’t think you should see-“ Shiro was cut off as Keith grabbed the tablet and saw the related videos, flopping back into the couch, covering his face with a pillow, and screaming. His older brother just sat there on the other end of the couch, tablet in his limp hand.

After that panic attack, he had begrudgingly gone to the doctor and was prescribed medication, which he only took for a week before burying the little orange bottle deep in his bedside table drawer. He had a collection of those now, medications he refused to take. He hated how it how it all made him feel. He wondered if there was any combination that would make him stop feeling so much for a while, but quickly pulled himself out of that mindset. He was all for wallowing in his self-pity, but that was about it.

“What is it exactly that you want, Keith?” both the doctor and Shiro had asked him throughout his slow, stunted recovery. His doctor had asked it boredly, clearly fed up with dealing with another grumpy young athlete who refused his directions. Shiro had asked it with frustration and pain in his voice, late one evening after finding out that Keith wasn’t taking his prescribed medications, and hadn’t been for weeks. On both occasions he had sat there in silence, avoiding eye contact, feeling guilty for even existing, fingers curled around the chair handles so hard it hurt.

Keith didn’t know what he wanted, besides getting back on the ice and trying to catch back up to the rest of his peers after almost an entire year off, but until then, he did know during his forced time off, he wanted to be left alone to wallow in self-pity and a dangerous amount of mini hamburgers and takeout food, and staying up until 4am on abduction and local cryptid message boards.

Shiro would wake up at 6am for work, and come yawning and padding down the stairs and out into the kitchen to blindly grasp around for coffee, and find Keith still awake in a nest on their couch; hair in disarray, wearing old sweatpants and his reading glasses, eyes red and dry as he stared at his laptop, typing away. His leg was still bandaged and extended on their coffee table, crutches abandoned underneath the couch. Little Red, their rescue cat, was still asleep even, but not his little brother. Shiro rubbed his eyes, sitting down his mug on the counter with a soft clink.

“Keith, dare I ask if you’ve even slept?” he sighed, leaning. “Or…showered…” he added quietly, sniffing the air. He glanced down at the abandoned mini burger boxes strayed across the kitchen counter. Keith shook his head stiffly, sniffing and producing an energy drink from somewhere in his blanket and pillow nest. Shiro groaned, “Don’t you know those are terrible for you? Since when do you even drink energy drinks?” he chided.

“What happened to the smoothies and well balanced meals and all that? Hey, I can make you one if you-“ Keith made a small sound of indignation, cutting him off, and not looking away from the dim glow of his computer, “Don’t you have a job or something to be at?” replied dryly.

He slept mostly during the day, after Shiro went to work. He refused to use his crutches, so he would hobble slowly upstairs, only showering if Little Red started to show aversion to his stink, pulling on over-sized shirts and sweats before collapsing on his unmade bed. He’d blink blearily at the little orange prescription containers on his bedside table, painkillers the doctor had prescribed him, but he rarely took them. Something about the dull pain radiating from underneath his wrist splint or the searing pain that pulled through the back of his leg as he readjusted his body, tears stinging at the corners of his eyes, seemed like a penance. It kind of felt like he deserved it if he thought hard enough about it. But that’s exactly what he didn’t want to do. He didn’t want to think about it at all. So he marinated in his own self-pity, conspiracy theory television and pop tarts instead. He would sleep away the day, wake up only when his stomach demanded it, and ate all the junk food he wasn’t allowed to while under Sendak’s training.

Shiro chided him every time he saw him eat it, but never much, because at least he was eating. The first week or two after he was released from the hospital, he refused to eat much, if anything at all. The only thing that convinced him to eat was when he was standing in the middle of the frozen food section at the grocery store, forcibly taken out of the house by his fretful brother with the promise of taking him to his favourite burrito truck if he came grocery shopping with him. It was a Friday night and it was relatively empty in the store, fluorescent lighting a bit blinding and eighties pop music humming along the speakers. He was standing in the frozen food aisle, talked into at least one crutch (“Because I’m not carrying you across the parking lot, little brother”) and baggy clothes – pizza stained sweatpants and oversized t-shirt with cats on it, and smudged glasses still on. His hair was pulled back into a messy ponytail, although it helped almost nothing, the rest of his hair sticking up to one side where he’d slept heavily on it. One of the workers had made a face at him and left the aisle when he hobbled down it, Shiro asking him to grab a few things and whatever else might catch his eye. Instead he was staring at the 40 count White Castle mini burgers, toaster waffles and frozen taquitos. When was the last time he ate something like that? Sendak had made him weigh in twice a week, and was on a strict diet under his training. As much as a bite of cake and he’d know somehow. It was amazing he hadn’t developed body image issues alongside the anxiety at that rate, honestly. Keith thought of warm cheeseburgers and soft waffles, and his stomach answered with a hideous gurgle.

Shiro came around the corner to see his brother shuffling down the aisle, struggling to hold his crutch and boxes of junk food. It was almost cute, really, if it wasn’t so sad and pathetic. At least he’d gotten him out of the house for a few hours.

“Microwave taquitos? Really?” he’d smirked as his younger brother dumped the boxes into the cart, almost crushing the produce Shiro stocked up on for his smoothies. Keith answered with a blank stare, nod, and another loud growl from his stomach.

A few weeks later he stood in the bathroom, after a rare shower, brushing his teeth. Shiro had come home from work and hockey practice only to slam the door and raise his voice, which was rare.

“It smells like something died in here Keith, you’re never going to get better if you don’t have some miniscule form of personal hygiene!”

“Something did die in here, my skating career and will to live” he’d answered dramatically, and dryly. He knew that was the kind of comment that got him almost sent to various psychiatrists, but he didn’t care at the moment.

Suddenly Shiro was in front of him, blocking the television. He was picking up various empty cups and plates to dump into the dishwasher, and returned shortly to pluck the laptop away from Keith on the couch. “Hey!” Keith had complained, trying to sit up, but the weight on his wrist burned through him.

“No. No more of this. I understand you’re injured and want to marinate in self-pity right now but you live with me, under this roof, which I pay for, by the way, and I need you to at least shower every day. This is getting ridiculous. And clean up after yourself every once and awhile?”

Keith had pouted until his older brother threatened to stop bringing home mini burgers, and he could see in those steely eyes and furrowed brows that he was serious. Fine! He had moaned, rolling his eyes so far back in his head it almost hurt, and melting off the couch to go shower.

He spit into the sink and washed his face, which miraculously did make him feel a little better, not that he would ever admit that to Shiro. He studied himself in the foggy mirror, and looked down at himself. He’d definitely gained some weight being on bedrest and eating junk food and being out of the gym. He poked his belly and studied his thighs, not really fat but definitely not as lean as he was in the past. He wondered vaguely if any of his program outfits would fit anymore, turning to study his backside in the mirror.

“Feel better?” he heard a voice say, Shiro coming up the stairs with a basket of laundry. Keith groaned and pushed the bathroom door to, “God! Can you leave me alone for like two seconds?!”

“What did I say?” Left alone, that was until he saw a soft smile and kind brown eyes earlier that afternoon. No one had looked him like that since the accident, with a genuine and kind gaze. There was no pity or oh, I feel so sorry for you, poor thing, in those eyes, instead compassion and understanding, and a slight hint a new start of something.

Keith had been tuning out Allura’s lecturing, packing his skates up, wondering with a soft smile if he’d be brave enough to talk to Hunk again.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter's a little short, but i wanted to expand on what happened to keith a bit. i probably got my injury/anatomy terms wrong, but you get the idea, okay.

“Dude, what took you so long? Did you get lost in the locker rooms?” Lance had called to Hunk as he entered the loud diner, and sidled into the beat up booth seat next to the Cuban boy. Pidge sat across from them, sipping on a huge milkshake, despite the forty degree weather outside. They had already ordered plates of chili cheese fries and burgers – Lance had already ordered for Hunk; a Hawaiian burger with a side of sweet potato fries, Hunk’s favourite.

“Sorry, I got distracted back at the rink. There was this guy on the rink? And he-“

“What, you got distracted by a figure skater? Weak, dude” Lance scoffed, shoving fries into his mouth.

“What do we know about this Keith guy? Coach’s brother?” Hunk asked aloud, swirling his fries around.

“Keith?! You were watching Keith skate? The guy with the mullet? Please, Hunk, have some standards” Lance snorted into his drink.

“Shut up, Lance” Pidge finally spoke, taking a bite of her food before turning her attention back to Hunk’s question.

“Keith was skating? That’s surprising. I thought he wasn’t supposed to be on the ice for a while.”

“Why not?” Hunk asked, curious. Pidge swallowed her food, looking down.

“Well, he got really hurt like a year ago. He fell during a performance at the Preliminaries. Sliced up the back of his leg really bad. Broke his wrist. I think it was all nerves, he had a really tough coach. Pushed him really hard. Too hard, apparently. To the point that he freaked out and fell on his first jump. That’s what Matt said, anyway.”

Matt was Pidge’s older brother, who was also a figure skater. He didn’t compete much, but instead preferred to teach classes to little kids who were learning to skate. Pidge helped out with these classes sometimes if she wasn’t at hockey practice. She liked to teach little kids on skates how to make slap shots into the unguarded net.

“Wow. That sucks” Lance replied, having been listening to the story intently.

“Guess it explains why he always looks like someone pissed in his cheerios” he shrugged, going back to his food.

“How do you know all this?” Hunk asked, suddenly feeling like he’d seen something he shouldn’t have, watching Keith skate, and then fall like he had.

“Oh, Shiro’s a family friend. He and Matt go way back. Also, Keith and I run in the same circles online.”

“What, he’s a conspiracy theorist too?” Lance laughed, but immediately shut up at the glare Pidge shot at him. Pidge may have been small, but one look was all it took to put both of them in their place if need be. Small, but mighty.

“Yeah, apparently this coach Keith had? He was a piece of work. He was known for pushing his students too hard, and Shiro didn’t like the sound of him one bit, but Keith insisted. Apparently almost every one of Sendak’s pupils have made to Nationals, if not the Olympic Qualifiers. And well, you know, Keith is all Shiro has, so he let him train with Sendak. But Shiro said that Keith started to sort of, I don’t know, lose the joy of skating? All he did was work out and train on the ice night and day. All Sendak ever did was yell at him and tell him he could do better. That he’d never make it Nationals, much less the Olympics. Keith apparently developed a lot of anxiety when it came to skating or performing, because he was so afraid of disappointing Sendak. Apparently this guy even threw a skate or something at Keith after a performance? All because he messed up one like, miniscule move and scored an 8.5 instead of a perfect ten. Shiro saw it happen and almost threw punches at the guy. He was a real dick, basically.”

Hunk watched and listened in awe, trying to imagine what Keith went through with a coach that pushed him too hard and did nothing but yell at him. Shiro was a tough coach himself, but he was always constructive and gentle, even when he was yelling at them to get in line and pay attention to the plays. It was supposed to fun, at the end of the day, after all.

“Anyway, it all came to a head at the Winter Prelims, last year. Almost exactly a year ago, actually. Everybody was waiting to see Keith’s routine, everyone had heard about his training with an Olympic grade coach, so everyone was excited to see. And so, Keith gets out there, and not even five minutes in, he goes to take his first jump, and completely loses it. Falls on the ice. Hard. Legs get all twisted up and he cuts the hell out of the back of his leg with his own skate blades. People are laughing until they see the blood on the ice. It was pretty gnarly, apparently. Like, one inch difference and he could have sliced tendon, clean through. Shiro even ran out on the ice before the paramedics could get there. It was heart breaking, honestly.”

Hunk vaguely remembered the weekend in question, they had planned a camping trip, but Pidge couldn’t come because she was helping Matt out with the big figure skating event. A lot of Matt’s pupils were skating in front of people for the first time and they could use a little Pidge-grade compassion. Lance had made fun of figure skaters the entire first hour of the drive. After they got back in town from the trip, they had heard murmurs, one of the skaters fell and injured themselves pretty bad. Blood all over the ice. Embarrassing.

Hunk had no idea until now that it had been Keith. He felt his heart ache for the guy. That explained the attitude earlier today, and in general, really.

“After that Shiro cut ties with Sendak. Keith was in the hospital for a while, had a shit ton of stitches in his leg. He was really mad at Shiro, and himself. He wouldn’t talk to Shiro for a while. After he was discharged from the hospital he was on bedrest, which is where we sort of became reacquainted. And yes, on the message boards. I even took some books over to their place for him, for research. When he answered the door he was on crutches and kinda looked like he hadn’t showered in a while. It was….sad. Honestly. I felt really bad for him. But I guess most people did…”

“I can’t believe you were swapping alien abduction stories with the figure skating mullet all this time, Pidge…OW!” Lance had exclaimed, Hunk could only assume Pidge had kicked him under the table.

Hunk stared down at his now empty plate, mulling over all these new details he learned about Keith in one afternoon.


	3. Chapter 3

They had started hanging out more, at least sort of. 

Part of physical therapy was taking yoga classes, to retain flexibility and stay peaceful and focused on healing. Hunk was surprised the first day when a red yoga mat was rolled out next to his own yellow and orange one. 

“Mind if I sit here?” Keith had asked, though he was already sitting with his long legs stretched out. He again had his hair tied up in a baby ponytail, and was wearing a sleeveless red cut off shirt. The shirt had three wolves howling at the moon dramatically. Lance would have had a field day with that one. Keith’s long legs were in a tight pair of athletic leggings with a grey stripe up them. He wore thick grey and black striped socks – the yoga studio, while peaceful and airy, was still pretty cold from the winter outside. 

“Sure” Hunk replied with a grin. Keith smiled back gently, scrunching his eyes as he did. Hunk felt his breath hitch. 

“Ever taken a yoga class before?” Keith asked quietly, stretching his arms. Hunk tried not to notice that they were well toned. 

“Uh, no, not really. But the physical therapist suggested it. Said it would help me gain back some of my flexibility. Goalies gotta stay flexible!” he replied. Keith smiled to himself, “I never thought of that, but it makes sense, I guess. Flying pucks and everything.” 

Keith then bent forward at the waist, going all the way down so his stomach was practically touching his legs, and his long fingers were touching his toes. Hunk stared, mouth going dry. Keith’s shirt rode up as he stretched, exposing a wide expanse of his pale back between the black of his pants and red of his shirt. Hunk wanted to reach out and touch it, but was drawn back when the yoga instructor entered and called the class’s attention forward. 

They fell into a bit of a routine, much to Hunk’s delight. They sat next to each other during yoga in the mornings, Keith would make faces at him during downward poses about the hippie yoga instructor’s airy voice, making Hunk snort and draw attention to them giggling in the back. Hunk had gotten a glimpse of the deep scar on the back of Keith’s left leg one morning, totally not because he watching Keith stretch from behind, and one sweat pant leg rode up to reveal a thick, silvery scar up the back of his leg. Hunk winced, remembering the story of where it came from, trying to imagine the feel of a sharp skate blade tearing through soft skin. 

He hadn’t told Keith he knew all the sordid details of what had happened, but it didn’t ever seem to come up. After that first meeting, Keith had started talking to him during physical therapy, and asking how Hunk’s injury was healing. 

“What happened?” he asked one day, eyes curious. “Oh, nothing dramatic, just twisted up my arm during a game. Should be back on the ice in a couple weeks” he grinned back. 

“Lucky…” Keith had replied, flexing his injured leg. They stared at each other for a moment. 

“Aren’t you going to ask what happened to me?” Keith finally asked, expression unreadable. Hunk stared back into soft, violet eyes. 

“Do you want to tell me?” he replied, softly, as another patient walked by. Keith looked away. “No.” 

++++

Keith had been an awkward teen. As a toddler and preteen he had been pretty adorable, all flyaway hair, big eyes, curious and happy, encouraged endlessly in his interests and explorations by his older brother and adoptive parents. He had started skating when he was twelve, but unfortunately puberty hit him like a ton of bricks. He shot up six inches and broke out weekly, his voice started cracking, and he got one really bad haircut and refused to go back to get another haircut for years. In his late teens he had started an intense skin and hair care regimen, because he was sick of looking like the monster teenage boy competing against all the girls in the skating competitions. By the time he was eighteen his skin had cleared up and his voice had evened out, and he actually started to develop tone and muscle. He still refused to get much of a haircut, only letting Allura trim his hair before performances. 

Unfortunately after his accident, he had started to let himself go. Not being subjected to biweekly weigh ins or strict gym and diet schedules had him gaining weight around his stomach and thighs, and his hair was an unruly, greasy mess due to his lack of regular showering, and he glowered at himself in the mirror whenever he noticed bumps appear on his forehead or chin. He stopped trimming his eyebrows or using nice smelling soap, only doing the bare minimum to stay alive and functioning. That was until he met a certain hockey goalie. 

Hunk had started chatting him up more in their yoga classes, despite Keith’s prickly exterior, and Keith found himself feeling more relaxed and comfortable around the larger boy. Keith had observed Hunk from afar in his back corner of the yoga class; Hunk was a bit out of place in the class, but was sent there by their physical therapist to maintain flexibility throughout his therapy stint. He also chose to sit in the back, although a few spaces away from Keith. No one liked sitting next to Keith due to his glowers, annoying range of flexibility and purposeful under usage of deodorant. Keith was taken aback by how handsome Hunk’s features were at first glance, up close. Despite the obvious – a big guy, dark skin, short black hair pulled back in a headband almost always – his features were exquisite. He had a strong brow, incredible jawline, soft caramel-coloured eyes, million dollar smile and an incredibly infectious laugh. He would tell silly jokes and the other students would laugh, and he found himself smiling and laughing to himself, by himself as he stretched. Once they turned to look at him, his laugh not stifled well enough, and he answered with a huff and glare, turning his head away before anyone could see him blush. 

After he had seen Keith fall that afternoon, Hunk had been the one to spark up conversation – even being brave enough to sit in the empty space next to him during the yoga classes. Keith quickly excused himself to go apply more deodorant and hoped to whatever god was listening that it worked. Even closer, Keith was able to let his eyes follow the thick muscle of the goalie’s arms – decorated with deep black ink of a few tattoos. He even forgot how to speak English for a full five minutes one day when Hunk lifted his shirt up to wipe his face – hefty stomach but a thick V of his hips disappearing underneath the waistband of his boxers. Keith was so embarrassed that Hunk caught him staring he hid in the bathroom for half an hour and was late to his session with Allura that afternoon. 

That weekend he stocked back up on personal care products at the drugstore and began his routines again. Shiro walked past the bathroom and stopped, staring at his little brother, who had his hair slicked back with a leave n conditioner and cat ear headband, face full of a green facial moisturizing mask, and was plucking his eyebrows. 

“What… is this?” Shiro asked, motioning to the bathroom counter full of products. “And what is that smell?” he asked, sniffing. 

“It’s the mint julep face mask. And it’s a skincare routine, ever heard of one?” Keith answered dryly. Shiro smirked and leaned against the door. 

“I haven’t seen you wear a face mask in a while. Did you uh…meet someone?” 

Keith whipped around and glowered, made much less intimidating by the minty face mask and sky blue cat ear headband. 

“What, I can’t do this for myself?” he asked. 

“Well no offense, but you haven’t really bothered…with all this in a while is all. Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad, now maybe the couch wont smell like Zamboni fluid and body odor anymore…” 

“Shiro!” he exclaimed, gripping the bathroom counter and glowering up at his laughing brother. His expression softened, realizing he hadn’t made his brother laugh like that in a while. 

“I just…I just may have been making friends in my yoga class, and if I’m going to be forced to reenter civilized society, I figured I could at least start smelling…better…” he trailed off, looking away, motioning with his hand to the bottles scattered across the shared bathroom. He couldn’t possibly tell his older brother he had a gigantic, inappropriate crush on his older brother’s hockey team’s star goalie and that was the main reason he started showering and moisturizing again. 

“Well, fine then. That sounds great. After you’ve cleaned all that off, get dressed and come on out to dinner with Allura and I. We’re going to your favourite burrito place” he sang. Keith sighed. 

“Are you sure she’s not sick of me yet? She sees me way too much these days doesn’t she?” Most of his days were spent at yoga, then at a therapy session with Allura, then monitored work outs and runs with, you guessed it, Allura. 

“Oh, don’t be like that, Keith. You know Allura loves you like you’re her own little brother. She’s been around for everything, including all your terrible haircuts. Which, speaking of…” Shiro trailed off, cocking his head at the wild mane of dark hair pushed back around Keith’s face with the stretchy headband. Keith whipped his head up from the sink, mask half washed off, “Do you want me to come to dinner or not?”

“What did I say?!”   
“Quit talking about my hair!”   
“Quit being so dramatic” Shiro countered, laughing as Keith splashed water at him. 

++++ 

They had yoga on Tuesdays and Thursdays, physical therapy on Mondays, Wednesday and Friday mornings, and would part ways for skating and hockey practice in the afternoons. One afternoon after therapy, Keith was zipping up a bright red sport jacket and toeing into some soft boots, laughing at something Hunk had said. Hunk tried not to be distracted by how cute the shorter boy looked with the zip all the way up to his collar, engulfed in the jacket. Hunk noticed the little green alien patch on Keith’s sports bag. He was going to say something, but heard his name from the hallway behind him. They both turned to see Lance, Pidge, and a few other guys from the hockey team, all with their practice jerseys on and sticks in hand. 

“Come on Hunk, we’ve been looking for you!” “Yeah, we’re gonna be late!” 

“Oh, sorry guys, therapy ran a little long today, I’ll be right there…” Hunk scratched the back of his head, smiling. He was vaguely aware of Keith looking over his shoulder curiously, all zipped up jacket and fists in the pockets. 

“And this is who you’ve been spending all your free time with, huh?” Lance announced, leaning on his stick and pointing his chin towards Keith. Keith’s blank expression turned into a slight glare. 

“Yeah, this is Keith, he’s Shiro’s brother? We’ve been –“ 

“Keith? You mean this is the guy who ate shit on the ice at that skating thing last year? From that video you showed me the other day?” one of the guys announced, pushing forward. 

“Video?” Hunk asked out loud, furrowing his brows together. He looked over his shoulder at Keith, who was slumping his shoulders and looking off to the side, thick brows knit together. 

“Yeah, I didn’t recognize you standing on two feet” one of the others snorted. 

“Hey, shut up, guys…” Lance actually defended, albeit quietly, picking up on Hunk’s confusion and Keith’s discomfort. 

“Yup. That’s me. The guy who fell within the first five minutes of his routine. Hilarious. Almost sliced half the muscles in my left leg in half but you know, people falling on their faces in front of an arena full of people, that’s really hilarious” Keith replied, venom in his voice, dark glare at Hunk’s team mates. They stared back in surprise. 

“I’ll see you later, Hunk” he spat, turning on his heel and stomping off towards the skating rink. Hunk looked after him, sadly noticing a limp as he tried to make a quick getaway. 

“Was he wearing Uggs? Ow!” Pidge had elbowed Lance in the side. Hunk immediately turned to jog after Keith, following him down the hallway. 

“Keith! Keith! Hey, wait up, I can’t move as fast as you…” Keith stopped in an empty hallway, shoulders shaking. 

“Look, don’t worry about them, they don’t know what they’re talking about...” Keith whipped around, fists still in his jacket pockets, glaring angrily up at him. Hunk thought he might have even saw the flicker of tears welling up in his eyes. 

“Is that what you hockey guys do? Just sit around and watch that stupid video on repeat and laugh at me? Why is it sooo hilarious to you guys when a figure skater falls down? Why is that video so funny? Watching the worst moment of my entire life on repeat for everyone to laugh at?!” He choked up at the last bit, sniffing loudly, trying to stare up at the larger boy angrily, but welling tears and wavering voice betraying him. Hunk held up his hands in defense, brown eyes wide.

“Look, I honestly have no idea what they’re talking about? I mean I imagine its video of your accident from the prelims, but I swear, Keith, I didn’t even know there was a video of it until like, five minutes ago. I’ve never seen it. I promise!” Keith stared, sniffing again. Hunk felt awful, he never wanted to see Keith upset, much less two seconds away from crying. It was bad enough to be humiliated like that a year ago, he couldn’t imagine what it was like to have video evidence easily accessible, and relive the humiliation day after day. 

“Well. Well how’d you know about the accident then?” Keith shot back, lifting a sleeve to rub at his nose. Hunk caught himself before he replied ‘doesn’t everyone?’, instead replying “I don’t…I…Pidge told me. About it. She was there. And told me, when I asked about you. I swear, I’ve never seen the video, Keith. Why…why would I want to watch that happen to you?” he ended quietly, soft eyes watching the dark haired boy with compassion.

Keith stared back, looking surprised. He blinked away the telltale tears. “You asked about me?” He let out a dry laugh. Hunk smiled softly. 

“Yeah. That first day I saw you on the rink. I knew who you were, I mean, you’re Shiro’s brother, obviously, but I didn’t really know much else about you. You were kind of. A mystery?” he chuckled. The corners of Keith’s lips tugged at a smile, but he was still sniffling. 

“So… so you really haven’t seen the video?” 

“I have not seen the video. Like I said, I didn’t even know one existed before today.” 

He was surprised when Keith leaned his forehead against his chest, laughing and sniffling, like he was crying and laughing at the same time. The shorter boy’s fists were still balled up in his jacket pockets, but pressed his head against Hunk’s old t-shirt he wore to therapy. Hunk’s hands hovered over Keith’s shoulders, surprised by the touch, before he decided, whatever, and placed them on the skater’s shoulders gently. He gently rubbed Keith’s back with the other hand. 

“You really are a good guy, aren’t you Hunk?” Keith asked, muffled into his chest, before backing away and wiping his nose and eyes on his jacket sleeve again. Hunk smiled and shrugged. “I try to be” he replied, laughing softly. Keith apologized for yelling, but Hunk waved it off, before Keith waved goodbye and jogged down the hallway, already late to training with Allura. Hunk watched him go, looking down to see tiny tear stains on his shirt.


	4. Chapter 4

_Hope you don’t mind_   
_hope you don’t mind_   
_that I put down in words_   
_how wonderful life is_   
_now you’re in the world_

After practice, Hunk lagged behind, and after Lance and Pidge bid him farewell, Hunk fished out his phone, sitting in the middle of the empty bleachers with his bag at his feet. He still had on his practice jersey and black athletic shorts as he scrolled through videos. He finally found the one he was looking for, and winced at the title. “Ice skating fag eats shit – HILARIOUS!” Hunk selected it anyway, taking a deep breath, about to watch Keith’s humiliation instead of just hearing about it.

And there it was, wobbly, but he could make out Keith skating out of the ice gracefully in his black skates and a mostly black outfit with slight sparkle to it. True to the story, not even five minutes into the routine, he went into a spinning leap, and Hunk almost closed his eyes, not wanting to watch, but watching anyway. Keith’s form went down, and hard, not dissimilar to that first encounter on the ice. There was a collective gasp, and then the videographer burst out laughing, followed by many more uproarious laughs. Hunk felt a pain in his chest, and could barely make out the figure running onto the ice; Shiro running to check on his injured brother. The video cut out jerkily, and three or four other thumbnails of the same horrible moment popped up as ‘related’, with various other offensive and angry titles.

“They all cut out before you see any blood on the ice. Or Shiro jumping like, four rows of people to run out on the ice before any of the medics can get out there.”

Hunk jumped and looked over his shoulder guiltily, seeing Keith a few rows behind him, wearing the same black turtleneck and leggings outfit. His cheeks were pink, and today his hair was pushed back into a wild mane by a thin black headband.

“I, uh, I’m sorry, I was just curious…morbidly curious I guess…” Hunk trailed off. Keith shrugged, rolling his eyes.

“I’m…really sorry that happened to you, Keith” Hunk said, gently, looking up at the dark haired boy.

“Do you want to see what that routine is supposed to look like?” Keith asked, making his way down to the row Hunk was sitting in.

“Yeah! I mean…are you allowed on the ice yet?” he whispered, as if Allura had ears and eyes everywhere. She might as well. Keith snorted as he plopped down in the seat next to him, arms brushing. He was still wearing the Uggs. It was cute. Maybe Hunk should get a pair, they looked comfy…

“Can I?” Keith asked, holding out his hand for Hunk’s phone. Hunk winced as the angrily-named related videos were still on the screen as he handed over the phone. Keith didn’t seem phased, and typed into the search bar with quick fingers. He rotated the phone as the video loaded, and handed it back to him. Keith gathered his knees to his chin in the seat, eyes wide and watching. Hunk turned his attention to the phone, watching the rink come into focus.

“Alright, this is Keith’s routine for Semis, we’re all very excited…” He heard Shiro’s voice say behind the phone. Hunk smiled. This was Shiro filming, sounding full of pride for his adoptive little brother. “Shhh! Here he goes!” he heard a female voice, probably Allura, say.

And sure enough, as the camera zoomed slightly, Keith skated to the middle of the ice and posed. The video was much less shaky and more in focus, so Hunk was graced with the sight of a slightly younger Keith wearing a skin tight black outfit, with sparkling silver details and probably rhinestones, and a sheer streak down his chest. Hunk smirked. “Nice outfit” he commented, and Keith exhaled through his nose and shoved his shoulder against the larger boy’s. “And that’s one of my tamer ones” Keith whispered, but before Hunk could blush at the thought, Keith shushed him and directed his attention back to the phone.

The music started and phone Keith began his routine, all grace and poise, landing the first jump, and many spins and leaps after it in perfection. Hunk realized he was holding his breath every time phone-Keith went in for another midair spin, and was so entranced by his routine, he didn’t notice Real Keith sidling up to him, shoulder to shoulder, thigh to thigh, watching intently as well. Except he wasn’t watching the phone, instead watching the larger, dark skinned man with soft eyes. Keith dared to gently rest his chin on Hunk’s broad, strong shoulders, and closed his eyes, listening to the tiny sound of his routine music from the phone. [Routine Music: ???]

Keith had watched and performed that routine countless times, and knew exactly what was happening on screen just from each note. He inhaled the musky, warm scent of his friend….crush? And sighed. Hunk was the first friend he’d made in years. Keith’s life was full of rigorous practice and training ever since he was a teenager, wanting nothing more than to skate and make it in the competitive figure skating world. He wasn’t very talkative to begin with, and having a strict schedule really limited his free time. Most of the other skaters he grew up practicing with were girls, who usually wanted nothing to do with him. Well, except for spunky little Katie Holt, who was always nice to him, a little bit of a chatterbox at times, but always nice. Shiro and Matt would chat together between hockey practices and figure skating lessons, when they had been younger, and Katie would show up wearing an oversized hockey jersey and missing her front teeth, trying to show the other girls her other loose tooth, but all the other little girls in their sparkly outfits skated away in disgust. Katie got to Keith and showed him. Keith looked around, before giggling and replying “Neat.”

The two of them would crawl around in the dirt in the tiny patch of woods behind the Holt’s house, discussing their favourite cryptids and telling ghost stories as the sun set, both of them screaming when their older brothers came looking for them, sneaking up on them through the tall grass and low branches. He didn’t hang out with Katie much after they got to high school, since his schedule got busier, and when they reconnected Katie had told him that she preferred “Pidge” now, and was on an ice hockey team. They bonded over aliens and interest in the occult and strange, albeit mostly online. But other than that, Keith didn’t make many friends, other than a stray lab partner or the only other boy competing in a skating competition.

Until Hunk, that is. Hunk was kind, and genuine, and sweet, and didn’t point and laugh at him, and seemed blissfully unaware of all the embarrassment Keith had suffered a year ago. And even when he did know, he didn’t laugh or judge him about it at all. Instead he offered up nothing but understanding and compassion, which Keith would have never expected from a guy on a hockey team, especially someone as hulking and intimidating as a goalie. Hunk was an appropriate name; standing almost six feet tall with thick, well-muscled arms, barrel of a chest and broad shoulders that made Keith sweat a little when he saw the muscles flex through thin shirt material during therapy or yoga. An intricate tattoo peeked out from under tight shirt sleeves on dark, beautiful skin, and his dark hair looked silky and soft, Keith had to remind himself that it wasn’t appropriate to just reach over and run his hands through it, at least not yet. Hunk had a strong jaw and powerful brow, and always wore a gentle smile or infectious laugh, and cute orange headband that reminded Keith a bit of the ninja turtle toys he used to play with when he was younger. He seemed to radiate warmth as well, and Keith found himself imagining being wrapped up in those big arms and feeling warm and cozy, and safe.

Keith heard the final notes of the performance song end, and applause erupt from the speakers, alongside Shiro and Allura’s happy cheers from behind the camera. He raised his head from Hunk’s shoulder and looked up at Hunk’s face, searching his expression.

“Wow. That. That was … incredible. How old were you when you did that?” he exclaimed, putting the phone down. Keith smiled softly.

“I was seventeen” Keith replied quietly, not taking his eyes off the larger boy. Hunk looked down at him, snuggled close and looking up at him softly.

“I...I hope… I can see you do that again… in person…some time…” he trailed off, distracted by how close they were, and soft, violet eyes surrounded by thick, dark lashes.

“I hope so, too” Keith whispered back with small smile, eyes fluttering as they inched closer, and ….

“HEYYY HUUUU-UUUNK oh” Lance practically yodeled down the bleachers, stopping dead in his tracks when he saw them so close.

Keith sighed and immediately scooted away, letting down his legs and shoving his hands into his jacket pockets again, blushing, soft, sweet expression quickly fading back into furrowed brows and annoyance. Hunk found himself blushing too, though he didn’t move. He sighed dejectedly; “Yes, Lance?”

“I uh, came back for my jacket and was looking for you, but I see I might have… interrupted… something…?” he ended with a high pitched inflection, waving his hands around, motioning at the two of them.

“You didn’t interrupt anything, Lance” Keith said, leaning his head back on the seat, but to a side and – God help him – winked over at Hunk with a tiny smile across his lips. It felt like an arrow pierced Hunk’s heart at that, and his mouth went dry, staring back. Keith just continued to smile up at him lazily.

“Oh. Well, okay then. We’re all going to the diner, wanna join us, Keith? It’s Double Burger day~” Lance asked, and if Hunk wasn’t so distracted he’d be proud of his best friend for reaching out like that. Keith sighed and stood up, breaking his hypnotizing gaze on Hunk, and slung his bag across his chest.

“Thanks for the offer, but I gotta go. Maybe some other time?” He turned the last part of his sentence to Hunk, before giving a tiny wave and grin.

“See you tomorrow, Hunk.”

“I. Yeah. Tomorrow. Thanks?” he replied dumbly, watching Keith take the stairs two by two, totally not distracted by his butt in those pants.

“DUDE!” Lance exclaimed two seconds later, right behind him, making him jump and almost drop his phone on the ground.

“Did you guys almost kiss?!”

“Lance!”


	5. Chapter 5

_birds and bees and songs like these_   
_‘cause we want, what we want,_   
_and it’s natural, baby_

Winter set in deeper, and one cold yet sunny day, the doctor cleared Hunk good to go back on the ice. This was met with uproarious excitement from the team, including Lance leaping into his arms, almost smacking him with hockey stick and knocking him to the ice.

“Alright, alright, guys, calm down. We’re all happy to have our star goalie back…” Shiro laughed from the box.

“Now come on, let’s suit up and run some drills. You too, Hunk. Welcome back.” Hunk grinned ear to ear. “Thanks Coach!” It felt great to be back in the locker rooms and suiting up, goalie gear and all. He was skating out onto the rink, feeling fresh and revived after months off the ice. He didn’t have his helmet on yet, still latched onto his belt as he skidded towards the net.

“Hey, Hunk, looks like you got a fan” Pidge chirped as she skated past, pointing up at the running track that snaked around the rink overhead. He looked up to see Keith, leaning on his elbows on the edge, watching him with that same lazy smile. Today he was wearing black running shorts and bright red sneakers, and a cut off grey hoodie. His hair was pulled back into the ponytail, and Hunk smirked back, offering a quick wave of his gloved hand. Keith waved back and gave him a thumbs up. Lance skated up and skidded to a stop, sending ice shavings flying all over Hunk’s shin guards.

“What’re we lookin’ at, buddy?” the Lance asked, following Hunk’s dazed gaze upwards, then elbowing him in the side, though he barely felt it through the padding.

“You sly dog. Showin’ off for your boyf-“

“Shut up Lance!” Hunk whined, pushing the thinner boy, forgetting his own strength as Lance slid back across the ice, laughing.

“Heyyyy Keeeeeith!” Lance hollered up at the skater on the track, skating backwards and easily slipped into some drills with the other guys, far too observant for his own good.

Lance had known Hunk liked other guys ever since they were young. And he never so much as blinked an eye at it. Hunk had dated a few girls, but never a guy, though he’d had plenty of crushes. He had been afraid to share his orientation with Lance and Pidge, but Pidge seemed to pick up on it before Lance ever did and had no reaction; whereas Lance seemed excited. “Really?! Nice. You have like, double the playing field now!” And proceeded to become the King of all Wing Men, asking what Hunk liked in girls and guys and making it his personal mission to find him dates. Pidge seemed uninterested in dating or romance altogether, and when they curiously asked Lance what he was interested in, the Cuban boy had grinned and shrugged. “Well, you know me. I’ll try anything once” with a waggle of his thin eyebrows.

“So anyone with a pulse, basically?” Pidge had retorted while Hunk had snorted at the reply.

“Uh, no, anyone cute with a pulse, Pidge. Geez” Lance pointed out.

Nothing like this though. This had been one of the first times Hunk had done the flirting on his own. He was pretty sure Lance would have never picked Keith for Hunk anyway. Hunk had asked Lance one night, Do you think Keith would be…interested in me? Without missing a beat, Lance had answered, “He’s a figure skater, genius, I’m pretty sure you have a swinging chance. Besides, who wouldn’t be interested in you, dude? You’re smart and an incredible cook, what else could he want?!” Hunk smiled shyly. Lance always had been his number one fan.

“Come on guys, focus, focus!” Shiro bellowed across the ice, clapping his hands.

“Come on Hunk, let’s do some drills and get you back in the swing of things, huh?” he asked, skating towards him, but not before giving a little salute to his brother. Hunk put his helmet on, but glanced back up to see Allura motion to Keith to follow her in their training, and tried to not think about Keith’s butt in those shorts. Then he immediately blushed underneath his helmet, realizing he was fantasizing about his Coach’s little brother’s ass while said Coach was right in front of him, about to shoot a series of hockey pucks at him. He shook his head and tried to get into position, but was again distracted by Lance and Pidge “ballroom” dancing in their hockey gear across the ice, Pidge going into a fake faint and sticking her leg out while Lance made kissy faces at Hunk.

“McClain! Holt! Focus, please” Shiro yelled, not even turning around. Lance dropped Pidge immediately and went back to drills, Pidge yelling after him, “Lance, you dick!” Hunk was vaguely aware of laughter coming from above, running around the running track.

+++

It had been a great first practice back. Shiro patted him on the back proudly, beaming, telling him it was good to have him back. They piled into the locker rooms, whooping and also butting heads with their goalie, welcoming him back. Lance stood on the benches, holding a bottle of sports drink like a wine glass, and giving a rousing but ridiculous speech welcoming his best friend and wingman back to the ice and team, clad in only a towel. That was until someone walked by and yanked off Lance’s towel, and screams and yells erupted from the locker room.

Outside the hockey locker room, Pidge walked by, blessed by having the girl’s locker room mostly to herself after practice, not looking up from her phone. “Boys are so weird.” 

+++

They fell into a steady, easy routine together. Allura still wasn’t letting Keith back on the ice yet, instead had him in a rigorous exercise and training schedule to he could be at the top of his game when the doctor did clear him to get back on the ice. Apparently the first time Hunk had seen him skate had been the first of many sneaks onto the rink without Allura’s permission, but Keith seemed to finally accept that he wasn’t allowed on the ice, perhaps prompted by Hunk’s quick return to his sport after doing everything the doctor and therapist told him to do to heal.

They still did yoga together in the mornings, and it really should be illegal for Keith to wear the things he did. Tight athletic pants, and cut off shirts that were too small and rode up to show the small of his back and stomach; which was quite impressive looking despite Keith’s lean frame. Hunk lost his place in class many a times because he was too busy watching how flexible the figure skater was, bending and stretching into most of the positions easily.

“Eyes ahead please, mister Garrett” the teacher chided him softly one day, getting giggles from some of the other students, who were apparently more observant than Keith was; totally oblivious to Hunk’s gaze watching him go into downward facing dog position.

Hunk was grateful to be back on the ice and in practice, thankful for the distraction from his growing crush on the dark haired skater. The team was loud and commanded most of his attention to begin with, and if he so much as glanced up at the running track where Allura and Keith ran in the afternoons (Keith usually wearing shorts that were like, way too short, fyi), Lance would call him out about it loudly.

It felt natural, and like coming home every time he strapped his skates and gear on, and he was looking forward to pre-season and real games, that were fast approaching. He wondered if Keith would be interested in coming to any of his games, and found himself smiling to himself stupidly, imagining a smiling Keith cheering for him from the stands. Not many people cheered for the goalies, mostly enamored with Lance as the team captain and star forward. “Don’t worry, Hunk, everyone knows good goalies are what wins championships” Shiro had reassured him.

After practice he usually lagged behind in the stands and waited for Keith to find him, and he always did, skipping down the steps two by two, thankfully putting sweatpants and jacket back on. Hunk wasn’t quite sure if he could stand it if Keith approached him in those shorts close up. And always, always, wearing a pair of Uggs, which Lance mercilessly teased him about. They would sit side by side in the stands, thigh to thigh, shoulder to shoulder, conversation easy and laughs real. Every other day they would watch Matt Holt’s beginner skating class, Keith would share his headphones and ask Hunk what he thought of a certain song (for future performances), or duck their heads to watch some of Keith’s old performances on one of their phones. Keith would ask about Hunk’s team mates, curiously, but quietly. He always turned down invitations to the diner with them after practice, even if it was Hunk offering the invite instead of Lance or Pidge. Hunk had learned to stop offering, because whenever the subject came up, Keith’s smile would fall off his face and he would make some excuse to leave. Hunk wanted to ask, why don’t you ever want to hang out outside of the rink? Was it him? Did Keith not want to be seen with him? Was he embarrassed to be seen with the goalie? Hunk’s heart hurt at the thought. It wouldn’t be the first time, he guessed. But Keith always bid him goodbye with a tiny smirk and wave, saying he’d see him the next day. And he always did.

“Why won’t your boyfriend ever hang out with us?” Lance had asked one afternoon, mouth full of cheese fries, sharing the beat up booth in the back corner of the diner with Hunk and Pidge.

“He’s not my boyf-“

“Well, not yet. That’s not what I asked though. We ask him like, every day to hang with us and he always turns us down. What’s up with that? I stopped making fun of his hair like, two months ago.” Hunk shrugged his shoulders, poking at is shake with his straw.

“I don’t know. Maybe. Maybe he just doesn’t want to be seen with me outside of the rink…” Lance and Pidge stared across the table at him at that comment.

“Well that’s not it. Does one of us smell? It’s probably you, Pidge” Lance replied, getting a sharp elbow in his side.

“Or maybe he’s afraid the rest of our team mates will make fun of him again? Because of his accident? How is that not the first thing that comes to your mind?” Pidge said, shedding light on the situation.

“Either that or he’s sick of hearing Lance make fun of his Uggs” she added under her breath, scrolling through her phone.

“OH. My god. I was just saying I have never seen a guy wear them! He pulls them off! That’s all I was saying! Mys sister has the same pair..”

“You told him to go get a pumpkin latte and complete the picture, genius.” Lance looked away guiltily.

“I may… have said something like that…”

But who cares about that, the reason you two haven’t hung out outside the rink if because you haven’t asked him out yet! That’s on you, buddy. I can’t do everything for you” Lance changed the subject quickly, taking a loud slurp from his drink.

“I mean I could try asking him out for you but I feel like it might get a little weird…”

“Please Don’t.”

Lance, for once, was right. They’d been hanging out in this routine for months, and Hunk never could quite muster up the courage to ask Keith out for a date. He talked himself out of it every time; he’s probably too busy, I’ve got practice, I don’t want to distract him for his healing routine, he’d probably say no anyway. If he couldn’t even get the skater to come to the diner with him, what hope did he have for a one on one date? Hunk was mortified at the thought of actually getting the question out, and could just imagine the face Keith would make. _“Thanks, but no… we’re just friends, Hunk…”_

“There is no way in hell he thinks you’re just friends. You two are attached at the hip every time I see you together. And you’re not the only one who can’t keep his eyes to himself. He’s always on that track during our practices and watching you play until Allura catches him not running.”

“Really?” Hunk asked, stupid grin coming to his face. He didn’t think he was much to look at with all the goalie gear strapped on, nothing like the body hugging clothing Keith wore when he skated - but he couldn’t complain.

“He was practically in your lap the other day! And I have never seen someone try and undress someone else with their eyes as painfully obviously as he looks at you. You are a smart, smart man, Hunk but completely oblivious. He likes you too, I can tell. But he’s never going to make the first move, trust me.”

“You won’t ever know until you try, Hunk” Pidge noted, sagely.

“You could always just ask him to come to one of our games too, I guess” she added absently.

That conversation replayed in his head incessantly, even now, sitting next to the object of his affections, watching the tail end of the beginner’s skating class. Just ask! Just ask him! He likes you too! You’ll never know until you try! Lance and Pidge’s voices echoed in his head, and he was vaguely aware of his palms sweating. You can do it, Hunk! Hunk! Hunk! Hunk!

“Hunk?”

He was brought back to reality by Keith leaning forward and looking up at him, eyebrows raised expectantly.

“Sorry. What? I was a little… distracted for a second.” The smaller smiled warmly.

“It’s okay. I just asked you a question. Who taught you how to skate?” Hunk was slightly taken by the question.

“Oh. Well. My brothers did. I have three older brothers. They all played Lions hockey too, so I kinda just. Followed in their footsteps. I guess.”

“Wow, three older brothers?” Keith replied, eyes wide.

“Yeah, we’re kinda a big family I guess. They’re all moved out and doing their own thing now.”

“Did any of them ever play hockey after the Lions?”

“Oh, yeah, hockey runs strong in the Garret blood. They all had a stint in the NHL, my oldest brother, he played professionally for a couple years before he decided to start a family instead and retired.” Keith smiled.

“So you’re an uncle too?” Hunk smiled back.

“Yeah, they have two kids, but they live kind of far away, so I don’t usually see them unless it’s Thanksgiving or Christmas or something.”

“What about you? Do you want to play in the NHL too?” Keith asked, chin in his hands. Hunk shrugged, and readjusted in his seat, distracted for a moment by a little girl in Matt’s class falling, but Matt skated over easily and helped her up, no harm done.

“I dunno. I haven’t thought about it much. I really like hockey, and I’m good at it, but I like other things too…” he trailed off.

“Like what?” Keith encouraged. Hunk gulped. He hadn’t really talked about his other hobbies with much anyone besides Lance or Pidge before. Keith seemed genuinely interested, and for some reason that scared him a little.

“Well, you know, like…” he stretched his arms above his head, leaning back into the seat. If he was observant he would have noticed Keith’s eyes watching the length of his broad arm flex with interest.

“I like to cook. And I dabble a little in engineering. But I really like to cook” he finally said. Keith looked impressed.

“Cooking? Really?” he asked, sounding amused.

“Yeah! My mom taught me. She’s a great cook. It’s really fun to make your own recipes and sort of, concoct something new. I like to bake a lot too. I’ve made Lance’s birthday cake pretty much every year since we were like, twelve. He always demands the darkest chocolate imaginable. Pidge likes carrot cake, but I think she’s the only person in the world who does. And the guys on the team practically fight each other when I make cranberry orange muffins. But only when cranberries are in season” he finished, feeling a little proud. His baking and cooking skills were second to none, and it was true, the guys on the team acted like they hadn’t eaten in years whenever he brought anything to practice. He suddenly really wanted to take Keith to the farmer’s market when it warmed up, hand in hand, wanted to show him all the best produce vendors and a little old lady who sold the freshest herbs and wildflower honey.

“I could, uh, cook or bake something for you sometime… If you want…” he offered, trying to act subtle. Lance had suggested this tactic, the quickest way to a man’s heart is food, after all! Keith laughed softly. “I like red velvet cake.” Hunk smiled. Made sense, all of the skater’s accessories seemed to be red.

“Oh, but, Allura kinda has me on a strict diet… I uhm. Gained some weight while I was on bedrest…” His eyes shifted away. Hunk wondered where exactly he’d gained the said weight, since he knew for a fact that Keith had a flat stomach and toned arms. He glanced down to his thighs, today wrapped in tight athletic pants with three thin white stripes down the side.

“One cupcake won’t kill your diet, will it?”

“Can you make just one cupcake?”

“Well, no, but I can pawn the rest off on the guys. They never turn down free food. Especially if it’s made by Hunk food” he grinned proudly.

“Wow. I feel special. Okay then. One cupcake” Keith smiled, leaning his head back against the chair. Hunk glanced down; the arm rest was pushed up, and their fingers were centimeters away from one another. It’d be so easy to just… inch closer and…take his hand in his….

“What about your parents?” Keith interrupted, watching him with soft eyes.

“Oh, well, you know, they’re a normal mom and dad. They love hockey. They love coming to the games. The usual.” His mother ran a floral shop and his father owned and worked in his own garage across town. They were originally from Hawaii, and moved inland when Hunk was only five.

“Is your dad one of those sports dads who yells from the stands and cheers every time you block a shot?” Keith asked, grinning, bringing his knees up in the seat to rest his chin on them.

“Actually, that’s more like what my mom does…” They laughed at the same time. It was true, Hunk’s mom was at every game and cheered the loudest, ever since he started playing hockey when he was in middle school. His dad was the strong and silent type, and couldn’t make every game because of his job, but he went to everyone he could. Hunk’s mom wasn’t the only one; Lance’s mother almost got escorted from the rink once when someone on the opposing team checked Lance into the glass and made his nose bleed.

_“Ma, relax, it’s not even broken!” Lance had chided, face full of blood, his mother shoving her way down to the box to check on her son. “Why didn’t you hit back, mijo?” she had asked him incredulously. “Ma! They throw out penalties for fighting! You know that! Do you want me in the penalty box for the rest of the season?!”_

“What about you? Who taught you to skate?” Hunk turned the question around.

Keith stretched, and now it was Hunk’s turn to watch those long limbs stretch out, like a tired cat, and the way his shirt lifted from his waist.

“Shiro did. And, well, Allura kinda did too. I think I knew how to skate before I knew how to walk that well. Shiro tried to get me to play hockey, but I wasn’t too good at taking a hit. The minute some kid shoved me into the ice I was in tears. But Shiro said I was a natural on the ice, so he encouraged me to pursue figure skating instead. Allura used to skate with me and show me all the technical stuff while Shiro played hockey. And I guess the rest is history” he shrugged his thin shoulders, glancing over at the larger boy with a lazy smile on his face.

“What do you wanna do after… all this?” Hunk asked, motioning to the entire rink. Keith sighed.

“I don’t want to do anything but skate, honestly.” This phrase was said with real honestly, mixed with a twinge of sadness. Keith hadn’t been on the ice in months, Hunk imagined it must be torture for him.

“When I skate, when I’m out there on the ice, it feels like… I feels like I’m free. It feels like there’s nothing else out there but me and my skates, and the rest of the world just…goes away for a bit. I’m not…anxious, or worried about what people think about me, or anything like that. It kind of feels like I’m flying sometimes. And I feel…I feel peaceful when I’m out there, you know?” he finished, and Hunk felt strange, like he shouldn’t have been privy to Keith bearing his soul like that. Keith’s dark brows furrowed.

“But then… when Sendak was coaching me… it … it stopped feeling like that. Seeing an empty rink made me feel… bad. Anxious. Scared. Because if I made one mistake, he’d tell me I might as well give up skating altogether. I think I almost did. But I knew I couldn’t, and if I gave up just because of some tough coaching, I felt like I’d be letting everyone down. I’d let down Allura who taught me how to jump and spin, let down Coran who kept the rink open late for me to practice, let down Shiro who paid for all my lessons and entry fees and coaching… but skating under Sendak’s coaching… It, it wasn’t fun anymore. I figured, well, maybe this is how it feels when you finally get serious about a sport, it’s not supposed to be fun. It’s your job now, right?”

Hunk watched as Keith spoke, wanting nothing more than to pull the smaller boy into his arms. Having something you loved so much no longer be fun or make you happy anymore sounded heartbreaking.

“Shiro knew better, and I should have listened to him. He tried to cut ties with Sendak multiple times, but I begged him not to. Sendak had coached so many Olympic hopefuls, and I was willing to put up with the verbal abuse if it meant I could make it to Nationals, too. He threw a skate at me once. Aimed right for my head. I wobbled on a landing at a competition, and he was furious. Told me I was an embarrassment and that he couldn’t believe he was coaching such an idiot. Shiro saw him do it and almost punched him right in face.”

“I wish he would have, this guy sounds like a total ass.” Keith laughed dryly at Hunk’s comment.

“I almost wish he did too. But it all came to a head when I fell at that competition last year. I think I had an anxiety attack or something, right there on the ice. Right in the middle of my jump. I think I told Shiro that I wished the skate had cut me enough to make me bleed out. I don’t really know what happened after that, it’s all kind of a blur. Or maybe I just repressed it. I woke up in the hospital, and Shiro told me he’d gotten rid of Sendak, and that was that.”

Hunk observed Keith, now slumped down a little in his seat, fists balled up and in his jacket pocket again, eyes looking sad and listless over at the now empty ice rink. Hunk had kind of regretted asking the question, but Keith had freely shared the information after all. Hunk couldn’t help his next question.

“How does it feel to skate now?” Keith looked up at him from under his messy bangs, sighed, and sat up.

“I don’t know. I haven’t skated for real since the accident.”

They sat in silence for a brief moment, before Keith surprised him by leaning back and resting his head on the larger’s shoulder. He went stiff for a moment, but then relaxed.

“I’ll let you know how it feels once Allura lets me back on the ice. I’m…. hopeful, though. It’ll feel the way it used to” Keith finished quietly, eyes closed, deep breaths.

Hunk smiled to himself, and rested his own head close to Keith’s. “I look forward to hearing about it.”


	6. Chapter 6

As they left the rink that afternoon Hunk had stuttered out an invitation for Keith to come to their first hockey game of the season. If he wanted to. You know. Whatever. It was just a scrimmage game, so it was nothing special. Keith looked up at him from under his eyelashes with a smile, hands tucked in his jacket pockets as they stood at the exit of the rink.

“Sounds fun, I guess” he replied, shrugging, but unable to wipe the smile off his face as he looked to the side.

Hunk couldn’t shake his own grin off the entire drive home. Filled with a strange new confidence, he decided that off the high of the first game of the season, he wouldn’t take no for an answer, invite Keith to the diner for after game celebrations, and ask him out, officially, that evening. He texted his friends his plans, and received back a tame “Good for you!” from Pidge and about three paragraphs of all capitals and wild emoji combinations from Lance.

**[Lance McClain | 3:37pm:]** Well now we have to win tonight’s game if a date with a figure skater depends on it!!!!

**[Pidge G. Holt | 3:38pm:]** I feel like he’d say yes regardless of a W or L.

 

Meanwhile, Keith was in the middle of his bedroom floor, talking to his cat, who was watching him come very close to losing his mind.

“What even do you wear to a hockey game where the person you have a crush on is the goalie? Can he even see me in the stands? Oh god, what if he invites me somewhere after? A party? Do hockey players have parties? Can I dance? No one’s seen me dance off the ice before…” he rambled, throwing clothes over his shoulder.

Little Red sat on his bed, watching the clothes go flying.

“Why does no one do laundry around here?!” he huffed, glancing over at the two overflowing laundry baskets of his own dirty laundry he had lied and told Shiro he’d done last weekend. He wrinkled up his nose. Oh. He finally decided on a pair of dark jeans, grey sweater and red plaid, studying himself in the mirror.

“How do I look? Date worthy? Is this even a date?” Little Red was laying down and licking her paw, pausing only to give him a once over and meow softly. Keith covered his face and groaned loudly, he really needed to make more friends and quit talking to his cat so much.

“Some help you are, little girl” he’d said, leaning down to scratch behind her ears anyway. She closed her green eyes and purred loudly, placing one paw on his hand.

“Are you talking to the cat again?” he heard Shiro yell up the stairs, sounding concerned.

“No!” he’d yelled back. He looked back at Little Red, her pink tongue sticking out slightly as she waited for him to continue petting her. Keith rested his chin on the bed and scrunched up his face at the black cat, smiling.

“He doesn’t get it, does he?” She mewed back in reply, bumping her head against his softly. They had found Little Red when she was just a kitten, shortly after they’d moved out of their late parents’ house and into this townhome. Keith was eleven at the time, and had heard tiny, desperate mewls coming from the storm drain after a rainstorm, and he had tearily demanded that Shiro help him fish the tiny crying kitten out of the drain. One pair of scratched up hands and a towel fresh of the dryer later, the scrawny little black kitten was munching away at a can of tuna inside their townhome. And one pair of big, begging violet eyes holding a kitten with big green eyes and tiny meow – two things Shiro could never say no to – Little Red was officially theirs. Well, mostly Keith’s, since her only interactions with Shiro were swiping off all his papers and pens from his desk and rolling around in his clean clothes, as well as leaving “presents” on his bedspread and shredding all his shoelaces.

_“Why doesn’t this cat like me? Doesn’t she know I’m the one that buys all her food and litter?” Shiro had scoffed as he dropped grocery bags, full of said cat food and litter, on the kitchen counters. “It’s not that she doesn’t like you” Keith replied from the couch, “She just likes me more” he finished, Little Red standing on the back of the couch and rubbing her head against Keith’s hair, purring loudly._

Back in his bedroom, Keith was pacing, still talking to his cat.

“What if he invites me somewhere and he sees what a failure I am at socializing and decides he doesn’t like me much anymore?” he asked out loud. Little Red blinked and twitched her tail.

“What if-“ he started again, turning around to see Shiro standing in the doorway, staring at him strangely. He was wearing half of his coach’s suit, tying his tie, which had little hockey pucks and sticks decorating it. Keith had jokingly given it to him as a birthday gift, but the older unironically loved it and wore it on game days when he had to wear suits. Amoung the other ties given as gag gifts was one with tiny lions, as well as one with aliens on it, all of which Shiro sincerely liked and wore.

“What?” Keith asked, arms crossed.

“It makes me uncomfortable when you talk to the cat like she can talk back, Keith” Shiro stated, sighing. Keith pouted.

“You talk to the blender. At least Red’s alive.” Shiro shrugged and stepped into the bathroom to readjust his collar, still talking.

“Did I hear you say you’re going to the game tonight? That’s surprising.”

“Why is it surprising? I watch hockey games with you all the time” he replied, leaning against the door frame.

“You’re just not one for… socializing, is all” his older brother replied, turning to face him.

“You’re the one who’s always telling me to make more friends!”

“Alright, alright, relax. I’ll be ready in a minute if you want a ride there.”

+++

Keith felt a bit out of place at a hockey game. He knew how hockey worked and did enjoy watching it, but it left a bad taste in his mouth after his first lesson when he was twelve and being pushed around and laughed at, and growing up the butt of every other hockey player’s jokes after he started figure skating. Hockey games attracted a louder crowd than ice skating events did, but he eventually found a half empty row of stands to sit at the end of. He hoped he didn’t look as lonely and awkward as he felt, sitting alone in the middle of a crowded rink.

He took his phone out to snap a quick picture of the ice, looking pristine and painted with the Arus Lions logo and various local sponsors around the edge. He sent it quickly to Hunk, letting him know he was there and didn’t flake out. In the locker rooms, Hunk’s phone chirped to life on top of his bag. He picked it up, grinning when he saw it was from Keith.

 

“What’re you grinning about over there big fella?” Lance asked, pulling his jersey over his head.

“Keith’s here. Just sent me a text letting me know he showed up”, grin getting even wider as he sent a text back, _Glad you could make it!! :)_ , before depositing the phone back in his bag and going to put his gloves on.

Lance pursed his lips and swiped the phone away the bag, unlocking it and reading the recent text. Hunk turned to see his phone in his best friend’s hands.

“Uh, Lance, what are you doing?”

“Sending a better reply than that stupid one you just sent” the tall boy replied plainly, fingers going to work.

“Wait, no, Lance, don’t do that…” Hunk reached for the phone, but Lance easily maneuvered out of the way.

“Are you sending him eight hundred emojis? He’s gonna know it’s not me!” Hunk complained, trying to grab his friend’s arm, but Lance noodled away, climbing onto a locker room bench.

“Emojis are an art form, you should use them more often, Hunk!” he replied, smiling devilishly as he typed away.

“I’ll have to look for them next time im at the MoMA” Pidge replied dryly, watching her friends fight over the phone.

“Give it back, you’re gonna scare him off..!” Hunk tried again, moving around in goalie gear complicated in the cramped locker room. He went to grab around Lance’s waist, pulling him off the bench, grabbing for the phone. At the same time, Lance tossed the phone behind him, Hunk grabbing it out of the air.

“Too late, I already sent it. You’re welcome” he saluted, sitting down on the bench and crossing his legs. Hunk blanched and went to read what Lance sent.

“Lance, I am literally going to kill you” he moaned, burying his face in his hands.

**[Hunk Garrett | 5:45pm:]** Make sure you cheer extra loud for me, cutie, I’ll be listening!! [insert lots of stupid emojis here] meet me next to the trophy case in the lobby after we win, ok?

Keith looked the glowing text bubbles on his phone, blushing. That was out of left field. But he smiled anyway, looking over his shoulder like someone was watching him blush up to his ears over an embarrassing text message. He laughed softly and texted back.

**[Keith Kogane | 5:47pm:]** Okay? I’ll do my best! Good luck :)

“Ooh!! Ooh!! He texted back!” Lance was waving his gloved hand around, trying to grip the little phone in the other.

“I’m changing my passcode, please put my phone down, we go on ice in ten minutes!”

“He sent back emojis!”

“What? Give me that!” the goalie snatched his phone away, pushing up his helmet to look. He smiled at the glowing screen, about to send another reply back, but Shiro appeared in the locker room to get them to line up.

+++

The scrimmage game had been a rousing success, something like six to zero, and Keith had forgotten how much fun it was to actually be at a hockey game, even if it wasn’t an official one. He would absently watch games with his brother and laugh when he’d yell at the television, but all the cheering and energy and noise vibrating through the rink and his stomach was an old, dormant feeling he’d forgotten about. Shiro used to take him to games all the time when he was little, teaching him all the right cheers and holding him up so he could see over people’s heads, not unlike how their dad used to let Keith sit on his shoulders at games when he was even younger. Hockey games usually lasted a lot later than little Keith’s bedtime was, so he had hazy memories of their dad carrying a drowsy Keith to the car, piggyback, with a teenage Shiro walking alongside in the parking lot, excitedly talking about the game they’d just watched.

Keith made his way out to the rink lobby area, to wait by the trophy case like he’d been instructed, feeling a little stupid standing by himself while he watched groups of other people all exit the stands and rink together, laughing and making plans, congratulating the various players that had been in the game. He watched a dad ruffle his son’s hair, a younger boy who’d probably played in a game on the younger hockey team that played earlier in the evening. He tried not to feel jealous. He had taught himself to not start missing his parents over stupid, everyday things, after all.

He was absently checking his hair in the front facing camera on his phone when someone gently tapped him on the shoulder, looking up to see the one hockey goalie object of his affections standing there, grinning at him.

“Hey! Sorry that took so long. What did you think of the game?” he asked, almost out of breath, but looking flushed and adorable – wearing athletic pants and a hockey hoodie, bag slung over his shoulder and hair damp from what must have been a quick after-game shower. Keith couldn’t help but grin up at him.

“It was great! I haven’t been to a hockey game in a while…”

“Well, I’m glad I could convince you out.”

They leaned against the trophy case and chatted idly amoung the cacophony of the after game crowd, distracted from each other only by Lance parading by, surrounded by fans, laughing and talking loudly. He caught sight of Keith and Hunk, waving widely over at them, “Hey! After party at the diner! Invite everyone you know!” he declared, winking and pointing a well-aimed finger gun in their direction. Keith laughed, arms crossed across his chest, and Hunk rolled his eyes.

“Do…do you wanna go somewhere quieter, maybe?” Hunk suggested softly, and Keith was all ears despite all the noise around them.

They stole away outside the rink, which was much quieter, Hunk holding the door open for Keith as they found a curb to sit on to the side of the doors. The night air was cool and crisp, and the goalie was vaguely distracted by the breeze taking the little curls of dark hair around the skater’s ears as he smiled out into the parking lot.

“It really was a good game, even if it was only a practice one. You look great out there” Keith finally spoke, chin in his hands as he turned his gaze over to Hunk.

Hunk blushed.

“I mean, good for just having gotten back on the ice after an injury, you know…” Keith shrugged, backtracking.

“Oh. Thanks. Feels good to be back on the ice, I have to admit…” he trailed off, realizing they were sitting thigh to thigh, shoulder to shoulder. Keith unconsciously seemed to have scooted as close to Hunk as he could, the night air colder than he’d expected, and only wearing a long sleeve flannel. Hunk wished he’d had a jacket or something to share, or drape over Keith’s shoulders in an act of chivalry.

Their attention was turned to the far end of the parking lot, where Lance was leaning up against someone’s car, telling an animated story, all arms and hands and various facial expressions, all eyes on him, as usual.

“Where’s your pack of adoring fans?” Keith joked, and Hunk laughed nervously.

“Goalies aren’t exactly at the top of most people’s lists, unfortunately” Hunk replied, leaning back on his arms. “It’s alright though. I don’t care about the attention. Not really. Lance is better at that whole… star player team captain gig anyway. I do it because it’s fun and I like it, you know? I like being a part of a team and being someone that people can depend on.” Hunk winced after he said that, wondering if that was too lame to say out loud. Keith was all smiles though, not laughing at him at all.

“That’s awfully noble of you, Hunk” he smiled up at him; and it was probably just Hunk’s overactive imagination, but the way the smaller’s eyes caught the moonlight was making the goalie’s heart do funny things.

“Noble? Nah, that’s not me…” he trailed off, surprised when he felt the gentle touch on his knee, looking over to see the dark haired skater looking up at him, all lazy smile and soft eyes. Hunk wasn’t strong enough for this.

“Of course it is. That’s one of the things I admire about you, actually…” Keith said fondly. Hunk stared back, blankly, taken aback by the tender gaze and words and touch on his knee feeling like fire.

“You…you admire…stuff about me?” he managed to get out, followed by short, loud, awkward laugh. This seemed to break Keith from his soft-eyed gaze, his blush returning to his cheeks as he gently pulled his hand away from the larger’s knee, pulling his flannel sleeves down over his hands nervously and answering with his own dry, nervous laugh.

“I.. well, sure, you’re an admirable person. I’m definitely not… not as noble or as selfless or as interesting as you are…”

“I’m interested. In you” Hunk found himself saying before his brain could think about how that sounded.

He’d never forget that wide-eyed surprised look on Keith’s face, and something in the back of his head thought, _I always want to keep surprising him if this is how cute he looks when I do_.

Keith smiled back finally, glancing down at his phone as it buzzed and a text bubble popped up on his screen. He stood, brushing off his jeans, and shoving his hands in his jean pockets.

“I gotta go, but… I’m pretty interested in you, too, Hunk” he managed to say with a grin, walking backwards for a minute before turning and jogging towards the parking lot towards Shiro’s truck; unable to wipe the stupid grin off his face or still the pounding of his heart against his chest.


	7. Chapter 7

_everybody’s trying to be a billionaire_  
 _but every time I look at you, I just don’t care_  
 _‘cause all I wanna be,_  
 _all I ever wanna be is somebody to you_

Sunny winter days slipped into more gloomy days than sunny – snow storms starting to become more frequently, and the scraggly, naked trees marring the grey skies. Inside the Rink was lively as ever though, hockey pre-season in full effect. Hunk was more on his game than ever, it was like he’d never even been injured or sat out for the months that he did. He was secretly grateful though, because without physical therapy and suggested yoga classes, he probably would have never gotten as close to Keith, the dark haired figure skater of his dreams, as he was. Keith had slowly opened up to him and they became fast friends, if not more soon. Hunk had still not gotten around to asking him out on a proper date, but there were many private moments among the empty bleachers after practice; brushing of fingers, heads on shoulders, ducked heads and soft whispers and laughs.

Keith seemed to be on the mend finally as well, listening to all Allura had to say and coach him. Hunk noticed there was less stiffness and limping displayed on Keith’s leg, and he could hardly believe that boy he met months ago with a scowl on his face and pushing himself up off the ice was the same person. Allura had taken use of a studio space upstairs and gave Keith a routine resembling ballet to practice – to watch his movements and make sure there was no faltering or pain displayed. The studio was all mirrors and wide windows, which made it hard for Hunk to watch in secret and away from Allura’s gaze, who would shoo him away; firmly but gently at the same time somehow. Keith basically practiced the routine he was given as if he was on the ice, all graceful arm and leg movements, bending and moving his body as he leapt around the room, similar to a ballet dancer. It didn’t make it any easier to pry his eyes away from the figure skater when he saw what he was wearing – without the cool of the ice, Keith had chosen to wear dance leggings, leg warmers, and various different crop tops that fell off his thin shoulders.

“Oh my god, he looks like the eighties threw up on him even more now” Lance had commented, getting a shove from his best friend.

They still met after practices in the bleachers, Keith usually panting from his dance practice, cheeks flush with pink and small sheen of sweat across his brow. Rapidly cooling, he noticed Keith shivering one afternoon – leggings and crop tops were mistake this close to the ice, after all. He shoved his varsity hockey hoodie towards the smaller, who accepted it after some slight hesitation, pulling it over his head. It was about three sizes too big on him, the sleeves pooled at his wrists and the bottom of it sat at his mid-thigh, but damn if he didn’t look ten times more adorable than before, drowning in Hunk’s jacket.

“Thanks… this is really cozy” he had beamed up at him, and it felt like another arrow shot through his heart. Hunk was too weak for this, honestly. Hunk could think of about a hundred other ways to keep Keith warm, but Keith had to take a call from Allura, and climbed the stairs back to the second level, passing Lance and Pidge as he went.

“Did you just boyfriend hoodie him? Hunk, you dog!” Lance had announced.

“Do you have an inside voice?” Pidge had asked as Hunk buried his face in his hands, blushing wildly.

+++

A few days later during a practice break, Hunk was leaning up on the rink wall, taking a swig from his water bottle when he saw Keith skipping down the bleacher stairs, two by two like he did, making a beeline for the ice. He was back to wearing his normal all black, Uggs, and red sports jacket with white stripes down the sleeves. He looked like he was grinning ear to ear, and Hunk smiled to himself at the sight. Keith’s head snapped up and made eye contact with him, waving, before jogging down the aisle to stand in front of him.

“Hey there. Why so cheery today?” Hunk asked, grinning as the skater approached. Keith lifted himself up with his arms on the barrier, still grinning like the cat who caught the canary.

“Well…guess who just got approved to get back on the ice?!”

“What? Really?” he asked, eyes wide and huge smile forming. Keith nodded, his hair bobbing with his head, unable to hide his smile either.

“I actually came down here to tell Shiro, but I forgot he was coaching. But I wanted to tell you too. There’s like, twenty texts of various excitement levels waiting for you on your phone, by the way. Also I just now found out where the emojis are on my phone, so…”

Hunk laughed, and Keith covered his own smile with his jacket sleeves, clearly unable to figure out how to express his excitement and dare he say it, happiness.

“Keith? Is what I heard true? Allura just texted me…” Shiro’s voice appeared, walking over.

By this time they had attracted the rest of the guy’s attention, who were craning their necks from the ice and watching.

“You heard it here first. I’ve been approved to get back on the ice. I’m gonna go put my skates on now, actually!”

“Alright, good job! See, I told you if you just applied yourself, you’d be back on the ice in no time…” the older said warmly, clapping his brother on the back. Keith grinned back proudly, clearly preening at the attention.

“Okay, well, I’m gonna go, I’m practically dying to get out there… I just wanted to tell you guys first!” Keith called over his shoulder, climbing back up the stairs to the opposite rink to finally get back to skating on the ice for the first time in over a year. They both watched him go, and Shiro sighed, shaking his head, but still smiling.

“It’s about time, isn’t it?” he said out loud, as if forgetting Hunk was there for a minute. Hunk was about to shove his helmet back on and skate back to the goal, before Shiro caught him.

“Hey, Hunk, I just wanted to thank you. For everything you’ve done for Keith these past few months…” Shiro started. Hunk looked around, like he was unsure who the coach was talking to.

“Yes, I’m talking to you. You’ve been a really great friend to him and really helped him come out of his shell. He’d probably still be fighting Allura and I tooth and nail about all the therapy if he hadn’t watched yours be so successful” the older man ended, smiling warmly. Something about being on the receiving end of one of Shiro’s proud Dad Smiles made Hunk feel like he was melting.

“It’s uh, no problem, I really like… I really like hanging out with Keith” he stuttered slightly.

“Also, come to think of it, I haven’t seen Keith smile this much since…. Well, since….” Shiro trailed off, looking up, as if the last time he saw Keith smile would float by in midair.

“Uhm?”

“When was the last time I saw that kid smile?” Shiro asked to nobody, distracted. Hunk took this chance to grab his helmet and skate away, sliding to an easy stop at the goal ring. He winced slightly at the thought, that Shiro couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen his own brother smile. He felt guilty for a moment, that he’d been privy to most of Keith’s smiles for the past few months instead of his own brother, but Shiro seemed pleased anyway. Hunk shoved his helmet back on and dropped into a butterfly blocking position as the rest of them lined up for shootout practice.

Hunk got to the practice rink just as Keith was toweling off his face, skates primed and shiny, watching video on a tablet, head to head with Allura. She pointed at something on the tablet, “See, I know you didn’t think practicing the routine on foot was worth anything, but you can really see how it helped you right here…” Keith nodded, looking focused and ready for anything. She was putting the tablet back in its case and slipping it back into her shoulder bag as Hunk reached the bottom of the stairs, offering a soft smile to him.

“Hello there, Hunk. I assume Keith has told you the good news?” she asked, sitting to remove her skates.

“He was like the first person I told, obviously” Keith scoffed from the ice still.

“Oh? Not Shiro? How special you must be!” Allura said with a soft, yet knowing smirk. Hunk blushed, and Keith was looking away, tying his hair back up in a ponytail.

“I’m gonna take a few more laps around the rink, is that okay?” he asked, looking over his shoulder at his coach. She stood, boots on and skates in her hands.

“Sure. But no jumps. Not yet. Also, you boys don’t stay out too late, there’s another snow storm coming in tonight. You both ought to get home safe as early as you can.” The last part of her words was lost, because Keith shot off on his skates, skating lazy figure eights around the empty rink, back to moving as gracefully as ever, alternating legs and spinning with no skates leaving the ground. The wind created from his movement whipped through his bangs, and the biggest smile ever graced his handsome features. Hunk watched him skate figure eights and wide circles around the rink for a while, and felt his heart speed up a little when he went into a spin, sinking down low and coming back up like it was nothing, and had to avert his eyes slightly when he pulled one long leg practically to his shoulder as he glided by him.

“You’re just doing that to show off, now” Hunk had laughed, and Keith returned the laugh, spinning around with arms out. He looked like he absolutely belonged there, that the whole rink belonged to him, and he could do anything. Hunk could only imagine what it would be like to actually watch him perform a routine on the ice, in front of an entire arena full of people, with judges and everyone else watching. Keith skidded his skates to a stop in front of where Hunk was leaning on the barrier, placing his elbows on the barrier as well, resting his chin in his hands.

“I swear, it feels like I’ve been holding my breath for a year. Being back on the ice makes me feel like I can finally breathe again.” He was panting, looking up at him with a smile on his face, and they were awfully close…

“Keith, I…” Hunk started, softly, and Keith’s eyes softened, watching him intently. Hunk saw his violet eyes drift down for a slow second to Hunk’s mouth, and shift on his skates, when…

A group of girls walked by, giggling loudly, pushing each other forward, paying no attention to the two of them, but pulling them away from one another nonetheless. Hunk groaned as he sat back down on the bench as Keith shot off to do one more lazy lap around the ice, probably trying to cool his blush off. He appeared a moment later, finally stepping off the ice and plopping down next to the hockey player on the bench.

“What, done already?” he joked as the skater unlaced his skates and reached for his water bottle from his bag – same red one with the cat-with-sunglasses sticker on it.

“I’ve been skating for like, two hours, I think even for me that might be enough for the day..” he sighed, breathing heavily, leaning back into the bench backing and tossing his head back. Hunk watched the span of his pale neck stretch out, but quickly looked away as Keith sat back up, finishing up removing his skates and slipping his feet into his boots. He shrugged off the turtleneck and sweater too, before digging around in his bag and pulling out a familiar looking grey hoodie.

“I. uh, hope it’s not weird that I still have this…” he said, looking a little guilty, holding the too big hoodie in his gloved hands, and Hunk recognized it as the hoodie he’d lent him the other day. He felt a warm smile bloom on his face at the thought of Keith keeping the jacket close for all that time.

“Not weird at all” he replied as the smaller shrugged it on, shaking his hair out of the ponytail. They sat leaning against one another for a while, Keith showing Hunk the video of his practice, pointing out the things Allura had pointed out previously. He put down the phone and sighed deeply, relaxing into Hunk’s side like he belonged there.

“She wants me to be ready for my first performance back on the ice by the Recitals next month. I hope I’m ready for that…” he looked off to the side at the empty ice.

“Hey, I’m sure you will be. You’re a total natural out there. And it’s just the Recital, so, no pressure right? It’ll just be for fun.” Keith worried the sleeves of the hoodie between his fingers, distracted.

“Yeah. Just for fun…” he trailed off, and silence loomed over them again.

Keith suddenly sat up and turned to face him, “Hunk, do you think –“ but was cut off by a loud, angry, guttural growl from deep within his stomach. They both looked down, realizing it was Keith’s stomach that was growling audibly, and Hunk laughed as he checked his phone.

“I take it you might be hungry? When’s the last time you ate?” he asked, amused. Keith shrugged, looking embarrassed by his stomach’s sudden betrayal.

“Uhm, breakfast. I guess. If you consider a protein bar breakfast, anyway.” Hunk did not. The goalie stood, shouldering his bags, offering a hand to the skater.

“How about we go grab a bite at the diner? My treat, as a uh, congrats on being back on your skates kind of thing.” Definitely not a date. But maybe a little bit a date.

“All the rest of the guys probably won’t even be there. It’s too late, it’ll just be…you and me.” Keith looked at his extended hand, and Hunk was ready to pull it back before Keith took it, pulling himself up off the bench.

“Sure” he agreed with a smile.

________________________________

 

That was until the two of them stood at the front door of the Arena, watching the blinding snowfall come down in sheets. The wind howled in the naked trees, and there were already drifts forming against the door.

“Didn’t Allura say something about going home early today..?” Hunk asked, squinting, and barely being able to make out his beat up yellow jeep in the middle of the parking lot. He turned to see Keith on his phone, looking disappointed, and eyebrows furrowing his face, which was full of laughter and smiles less than ten minutes ago.

“Shiro’s stuck at work and can’t come pick me up” he said, staring down at his phone.

“You don’t have a car?” Hunk asked, getting an annoyed little face from Keith.

“Well, it was ‘Keith, you can have a car this year or we can pay for an Olympic grade coach, you decide’ and well, you know how that worked out” Keith sighed, crossing his arms, staring out into the snow storm. Hunk watched him, when the idea dawned on him.

“Do you want a ride home?” Keith looked up at him, eyes wide. “What?” “I can drive you home. It’ll be slow going, but I have a jeep, so it shouldn’t be that bad. If you trust me, I guess. It’s no trouble, I promise.”

“But you don’t even know where I live, how do you know it’s no problem?” He had a point. He had no idea how close or how far away Keith and Shiro lived from the Rink. All he knew what that Shiro drove a big black truck and Keith was always in the passenger seat.

Hunk shrugged it off still. “What, do you wanna walk home? And I can’t leave you all alone here. It’s creepy. And there’s no telling when Shiro can get away from work, right?”

Keith shook his head, pocketing his phone and wrapping his scarf around him in one quick motion, shoving his hands in the hoodie pocket. “Okay, true, let’s go!” he chirped, and grabbed onto Hunk’s jacket sleeve as they jogged across the parking lot in the biting snow.

They threw their bags in the backseat and clambered into the front seats, slamming the door and coating the floor mats with snow. Keith shivered once, violently, and they could both see their breaths in the car. Hunk cranked the jeep, glad to hear it purr to life, and turned on the defrost. He saw Keith attempt to shrug off his jacket, “Uh, don’t get too comfortable. Old Yeller here is my baby, but the heater has been on the fritz. You’ll probably wanna keep the jacket on.”

“Oh, okay then.” Hunk’s jeep really was his baby, he spent most of his summers working on it, and practically rebuilt it from scrap. His dad and middle older brother ran an auto shop across town where he also worked some summers in the off season of hockey. It was a beat up yellow paint job, which he swore he’d fix this summer, put kept putting it off for other things. Of course the heater had gone on the fritz in the dead of winter when he didn’t have time to tinker with it. It didn’t bother Hunk much until this very moment, when a shivery little figure skater was uncomfortable in his passenger seat. He also wished he had cleaned it out more often; the backseat was full of smelly goalkeeper’s gear, broken hockey sticks, wayward pucks, and pair of Lance’s socks, for some reason. "They are my LUCKY socks, Hunk!" he would declare whenever Hunk asked him to take them home.

The floor was covered in empty coffee cups (Lance demanded Starbucks) and empty take out containers. Hunk had a talent for being able to eat noodles and drive at the same time. It was a little easier when Lance was there to feed him while he drove at least. At least the passenger seat area was mostly clean, though to his horror, Keith pulled a sweat stained tshirt out from under him. Hunk snatched it away, throwing it into the backseat of horrors.

“Sorry. I wasn’t. Expecting company, or whatever…” he apologized, grasping blindly for the radio knob to fill the silence, still waiting for the window to clear off enough to drive.

“ _I must confess, that my loneliness, is killing me noooooow_ ” the speakers crackled to life, unfortunately still set on Lance’s Hot 90’s Jams cd from high school – Lance and Hunk had many a car sing and dance alongs in this jeep. Hunk switched the volume down, embarrassed yet again, but Keith laughed softly.

“Let me guess, Lance?” he asked and Hunk shrugged weakly.

“Here, you can DJ on the drive. Make sure you tell me where I’m going though, okay?” he said, handing Keith the AUX chord and switching the source on the radio over. Keith scrolled through his playlists as Hunk finally put the jeep in reverse, slowly inching through the parking lot to the main road. Keith landed on a song finally, and quietly gave Hunk directions towards his place. The drive was quiet, save for the music, and Keith’s quiet “Turn Here” and “It’s the next light”, as though Keith didn’t want to distract Hunk from the road. Once they got moving and out onto main roads it wasn’t too bad, Hunk was used to driving in worse. He glanced over at one point to see Keith singing along to the song quietly, barely audible above the defrost still working and windshield wipers squeaking against the window. His fur lined jacket hood was up over his head, and one leg brought up on the seat, small hands working through his phone. Hunk smiled, feeling warm despite the broken heater.

He rolled the Jeep to a stop in the middle of a normal looking neighborhood In front of a set of townhouses squished together about twenty minutes away from the Rink, and about forty-five minutes opposite from Hunk’s house.

“Well, this is me. Still no Shiro, either” Keith said, checking his phone, the truck not parked in the driveway. The townhouse in question had a bright red front door and sad looking bushes under the windows.

“Thanks for the ride, Hunk” he smiled, unhooking his phone, the radio crackling on once the AUX chord was removed.

“It’s a doozy out there, folks, if I were you I’d get home and stay off those roads! The sun is going down and there’s gonna be some icy conditions! The highway is a total mess right now!” the radio DJ announced, and Keith looked up at Hunk worriedly.

“How far away do you live again?” he asked.

“Oh, like, half an hour or so away… the opposite direction….” Hunk tried to sound nonchalant.

“Stay here. Tonight.” Keith said, straight faced, without missing a beat.

Hunk gulped. “What?”

Keith nodded towards the radio.

“You heard him. They said it was really dangerous. That’s too far away, and it’s not safe. You can stay here, Shiro won’t mind, I promise.”

Hunk’s head was reeling at the thought of staying over with Keith, no Shiro, just the two of them, alone, in the house, with a snow storm raging outside, Keith wearing Hunk’s hoodie still.

“Come On. I’m not letting you drive in this anymore. Follow me” Keith demanded, fishing his keys out of his pocket and unbuckling, pulling his gym bag out of the backseat and into his lap. Hunk sighed, unable to argue, and pulled the jeep into the driveway. Keith jumped out of the passenger seat, quickly unlocking the front door and ushering the larger inside before locking it back, and tossing his keys onto a small table, as well as the handful of mail that was on the floor. He toed off his boots and dropped his bag in the foyer as well, padding into the house.

“Come on. Make yourself at home” he smiled, flicking on some lights and disappearing around the corner.

It was a simple little place, living area to the right, and stair case to his direct left. The living area had a big, L shaped couch that looked comfortable as hell, and a large entertainment center with a big television, and various consoles underneath, a messy collection of DVDs and game recordings on the adjoining shelves. Above the tv was a framed hockey jersey with various signatures on it. Flanking the tv stand were two tall bookshelves, full of books and framed photos, which when he got closer, were mostly photos of a younger Keith, some of them he was skating, some particularly embarrassing school yearbook photos, and one adorable snapshot of Keith and Shiro when they must have been about ten and eighteen respectively, both wearing hockey jerseys, but Keith’s was oversized and almost looked like a dress. Shiro looked a lot less beefy and had less white in his hair, and Keith was missing his two front teeth in the photo. Hunk smiled at it, putting it back down next to a goofy looking mascot bobble head matching the jerseys. There was an electric fireplace that was already on, which flowed into an area with a small dining table, but it was littered with two laptops and various playbooks and unopened mail instead of food. Hockey sticks and various gym bags lined the wall, where various other framed photos were. This flowed into a little kitchen, where Keith was, rummaging around in the fridge. Hunk wasn’t sure what he had been expecting, but it was basically a bachelor pad of some weird design. There was a laundry basket in the middle of the floor, which Keith pushed aside with his foot as he came by, offering Hunk a bottle of water.

“I’m gonna go bump up the heat. Like I said, make yourself at home. Our couch is awesome, remotes on the coffee table….somewhere….” he looked at the messy coffee table, with newspaper and a hockey magazine strewn across it and a half empty mug on a coaster that looked like a hockey puck. He heard Keith climb the carpeted stairs behind him, and relaxed into the couch. No joke, it was pretty great. He flipped on the tv as instructed, and the weather channel was on, the reporter again repeating what the radio DJ said about dangerous conditions. He sent a quick text to his mother letting her know where he was, and she replied back almost immediately, that’s okay, just be safe.

Keith clambered back down the stairs, having changed into a clean pair of leggings, socks, and oversized long sleeve shirt with more wolves on it. Hunk suppressed a giggle. In Keith’s arms were about four blankets and quilts, which he deposited onto the couch. He noticed Hunk observing his change of clothes, though for the wrong reason.

“Oh. I feel bad I don’t have anything to offer you to change into” he winced, but Hunk waved him off. “I’m okay, I changed after practice!” Keith picked up the blankets again, and opened a small door underneath the stairs, which must have been where the laundry was. Hunk watched him toss the blankets into the dryer, “You know, so they’ll be super warm in fifteen minutes or so” he smiled. For someone who spent most of his time on the ice, he liked being warm and cozy and surrounded by soft things.

Keith bustled about the townhome, and went back into the kitchen, pulling down a can of cat food, and setting two small bowls on a little cloth mat Hunk hadn’t noticed before.

“Do you have a cat?” he asked, feeling a little dumb, what else would he be feeding? A ferret?

“Oh, yeah. She’s probably hiding though, she doesn’t like snowstorms much.” He threw the empty can away, starting to make little cooing and kissing noises that really shouldn’t have been that cute.

“Heyyy, little Red, its dinner time, sorry I’m late…” he sang, looking under the table and behind a recliner near the fireplace. Suddenly, as if on cue, the cat appeared, leaping up on the couch on Hunk’s side, delicately pawing her way over Hunk’s lap, flicking her tail in his face, and across the couch to rub against Keith’s outstretched hand. She was a big, slick-furred black cat with a bright red collar on, that upon closer inspection had tiny little stars on it where her tags tinkled delicately as she meowed loudly at Keith.

“I know, I know, I already said I’m sorry dinner is late” he replied to the mewing, scratching behind her ears. Her mews dissolved into loud purring, before she leapt off the couch and trotted over to her bowls.

“I would have assumed you were more of dog person, actually” Hunk grinned, and Keith rolled his eyes as he sat down, finally, less than half a foot away from Hunk. Little Red mewed loudly from the kitchen as if she was replying to the dog comment. Keith smiled and exhaled from his nose.

“Nah, I found Red when she was just a little kitten. Shiro helped me save her from a storm drain. We put posters all over but no one ever claimed her. So, she’s ours now” he said, turning his head towards him, looking tired, but satisfied with the day.

Hunk imagined a toothy preteen Keith from the photos and a skinny Shiro working together to save a tiny kitten from a drain, and found himself smiling widely at the thought.

He was interrupted, however, by Keith’s stomach growling loudly again, and Keith covering it with his hands, as if he could silence it.

“Oh man, I forgot we didn’t get to eat. How are you still standing if you haven’t eaten anything since breakfast?” he asked. Keith blinked.

“Well, I’m not standing right now…” Hunk snorted.

“You know what I mean. Mind if I take a look around?” he nodded towards the kitchen.

“Uh, sure, but there’s probably not much in there… Shiro’s been swamped at work and with pre-season and i don’t have a car to go to the store myself... we’ve been living off pizza and take out…”

“I thought Allura had you on a diet” he called over his shoulder, opening the door to the fridge and pantry at the same time.

“Shiro said she didn’t have to know about the pizza. It had spinach on it!” he offered up from the couch, legs spread out and propped up on the coffee table, flipping away from the weather channel. Little Red had finished her dinner and was sitting on the ledge, watching Hunk curiously with inquisitive green eyes. He wasn’t kidding, the fridge was pretty bare save for some old take out containers and half empty pizza boxes, and a large bottle of protein smoothie drink. But with some digging in the freezer and pantry, Hunk was able to find enough ingredients for a simple, yet hearty pasta dish. Keith wandered over into the kitchen after a few minutes, holding Little Red in his arms, watching Hunk cook.

“It’s like watching a food network show!” he exclaimed quietly, and Hunk laughed.

“Oh this is nothing, you should see me really get into it…” He wanted to finish that sentence with an invite and offer to cook for him properly one day, but was cut off by something sizzling. About twenty minutes later Hunk found some clean bowls and served up the pasta to a wide eyed Keith, who was sitting back on the couch under the blankets he’d pulled out of the dryer.

“Wow, you made this from stuff in our kitchen? I don’t think we’ve even turned that stove on in like six months…” he noted, looking down at the dish. Hunk joined him back on the couch with his own bowl, preening a bit under the praise.

“OH, this is nothing, trust me, if I had all the right ingredients I could make you a four course meal. But it works if we’re stuck inside on a snowy night, huh?” he smiled as Keith nodded, mouth full of food.

After they were done, Hunk put all the dishes he’d used in the dishwasher “I don’t think we’ve used that in six months either” and asked where the bathroom was, because he’d drank almost two bottles of water, because he took a sip every time Keith made a happy noise at the food he’d made him. Keith pointed up the stairs and said there was one in the hallway. Hunk climbed the stairs carefully, the second floor only holding two bedrooms and a shared bathroom. He assumed the one was the closed door was the master, aka Shiro’s, and the one with the cracked door must have been Keith’s bedroom.

He used the bathroom quickly and knew he probably shouldn’t, but he couldn’t help his curiosity as he peeked into Keith’s room. It was fairly neat, which surprised him for some reason. The bed was made; dark red comforter and white sheets, with about a thousand pillows piled up, including a big lion plush that looked like it had been won at a fair. He knew because he’d won Lance and Pidge about five in an hour, thanks to his strong throwing arm, before the carnie shooed them off.

There were soft white lights hung up haphazardly around the room, a desk with various books and lists, with a bulletin board above it, holding a calendar that wasn’t on the right month and various Polaroid photos – mostly of Keith with Shiro, one with Allura, and one of Coran, and about five of Little Red. There was a small framed photo on the bedside table, which Hunk assumed must have been their parents.

There was a dresser to the other side that was full of trophies and ribbons above it, various awards and accolades from figure skating and ice dancing. The closet door was open and bursting at the seams with laundry and clothing, and from the corner of his eye he saw some sparkles, which must have been old performance outfits shoved in the back. Above the bed there was a big poster of the night sky, full of constellations and planets, and Hunk almost laughed out loud when he saw the iconic “I want to Believe” poster from the X-Files on another wall. Pidge had a matching one, although that one was framed, in her bedroom. Near the door there was a bookshelf, also stocked to the brim, mostly with books about cryptids or skating or exercise, and a pile of various skates at the bottom. On one shelf was a small collection of plastic and glass aliens, Hunk’s favorite was the one with the Kanucks jersey on.

He almost turned to leave, satisfied with his quiet exploration of Keith’s room, when he saw the borrowed hoodie on the bed. He touched the edge of it, wondering if he’d ever get that jacket back. Upon two seconds of thought, and imagining Keith wearing it – and nothing else – while laying on this bed, he decided he didn’t care if he got it back or not.

He padded down the stairs, realizing he’d spent kind of a long time upstairs, and hoped Keith wouldn’t think he’d been in the bathroom that long… when he paused in the middle of the stairs, seeing Keith curled up under the blankets, head resting on a couch pillow, barely visible except for the poof of dark hair above the blanket, arm around a snoozing Little Red while some late night talk show host laughed on screen. Hunk was sorely tempted to take a photo on his phone, if nothing but proof he was alone with Keith for the group chat, but decided against it. Instead he just finished his way down the stairs and gently sat back down on the couch, pulling a bit of the cover over himself, and settling to watch whatever show was on.

Not two seconds after he sat down did Keith stir, sitting up and blinking at him tiredly. Little Red yawned and stretched, hopping off the couch to find a different place to sleep. Keith’s hair was already sticking up to one side, adorable, and said nothing as he turned to burrow under Hunk’s arm and into his side, bringing his own blanket cocoon with him. Hunk let him, of course, and let his hand rest gently around his small waist.

“Long day, huh?” he asked quietly, and Keith nodded against his chest.

“Good day, though” he replied, stifling a yawn.

“Except for the snow storm part. But I guess it’s still good, because you’re here, and you’re warm, and I like you, so…” he trailed off, stifling another yawn.

Hunk tensed up, wondering if he heard that right. “You…like me? Or you just like that I’m warm…” he asked, rubbing circles into Keith’s side.

Keith’s head raised up, cute sleepy expression on his face, eyes lidded, hair everywhere.

“Both. Obviously. And that feels… really nice…” he sighed, referring to the gentle circles Hunk’s larger hand was rubbing into his skin, hand now under his shirt. Keith’s eyes fluttered closed and he let out a happy little sound that sent a spark straight down Hunk’s spine.

“You know… I … I like you too. A lot. Like, more than just a yoga neighbors and I’m just a nice guy way” he finally said, and Keith opened his eyes back up, lazy smile snaking across his lips.

“I hoped so. Just Friends don’t exactly watch each other do downward facing dog positions like that or snuggle in the bleachers every afternoon, do they?” he asked, and Hunk blushed, looking away for a split second.

“You noticed that?” he asked, voice coming out a slightly higher pitch than he had planned. Keith snorted a little.

“I always know when your eyes are on me. I like it. Why the hell else do you think I’ve been wearing shorts like that in twenty degree weather? It wasn’t for Allura’s benefit.”

Wow. Keith was kind of devious. And also very close to his face. Close enough to see the dark of his lashes, tiny scar under his left eye, and feel him breathing.

“Can I kiss you now?” he asked, and Hunk nodded, but instead just closed the space between them, finally, finally kissing those lips he’d been staring at for months. It was a simple, soft press of lips on lips, warm, simple, and God, Hunk hoped he didn’t have any spinach in his teeth from dinner earlier. Keith’s hands pressed against his chest, and Hunk’s hand went to rest on Keith’s thigh – above the blanket. The smaller hummed into the kiss, and there was the tiniest hint of tongue before they parted. They stayed nose to nose for a moment, watching each other; the only sounds were the wind howling outside, the small hum of the television, and their breathing. Keith smiled, violet eyes soft on brown eyes, his thin fingers tightening slightly in the fabric of Hunk’s shirt.

“Keith, can I take you out to dinner next weekend? On a date?” Hunk finally asked, point blank, lips still tingling a little from their kiss. Keith leaned back in for another short, sweet kiss, and replied:

“Sure. I’d love to. About time, by the way” and ducked his head back under Hunk’s, snuggling closer. Hunk gathered him up in both of his strong arms, pulling him closer, before leaning back into the couch cushions, content. Keith let out a happy sounding sigh, eyelids drooping again.

“Today was a great day, wasn’t it?” he asked softly into the quiet of the room. Hunk rubbed his back under the blankets, and if he could he was almost sure Keith would have started purring.

“You can say that again.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh my god, they finally go on a date!   
> also, boyfriend jackets.

Their date had gone well, although Hunk had stressed about it for the entire week leading up to it.

“He already likes you, it’s not like you need to impress him” Lance had tried to comfort, but Pidge snorted from the seat across.

“No wonder no one ever goes out on second dates with you.”

“That’s not true! And besides we are talking about Hunk’s dating life right now, not mine, and definitely not yours” Lance had said the last part with an ever dramatic eye roll.

“And we never will talk about mine” Pidge had said matter-of-factly, putting down the menu, as if any of them needed to look at a menu.

“And Lance is right. Kind of. He already likes you, so just you know, be yourself. Take him to your favourite places. I mean all you really need to do is hang out outside of the ice rink and boom, it’s a date!”

+++

The day of the date fast approached, and Hunk was on a Skype call with Lance and Pidge hours before.

“Should I have gotten him flowers? What do you even do for this kind of thing?”

“You relax, that’s what you do” Pidge had said, only overshadowed by Lance, about one inch away from the computer’s camera.

“No, you big lug, you don’t get him flowers. He’s been figure skating all his life, people throw flowers on the ice all the time, don’t do it on a date. Is that what you’re wearing?”

Hunk looked down at his chosen clothing. He had thought his chosen outfit was fine, he didn’t have many normal clothes outside of athletic clothing after all.

“Why, what’s wrong with it?”

“Nothing-“ Pidge had tried to say, again cut off by Lance shrieking through his laptop speakers.

“What are you doing, taking him to church camp or are you trying to woo this guy? I’m coming over, I knew I should have picked out acceptable clothing for you earlier this week.”

“Lance, don’t…” but it was too late, his screen had cut out leaving only Pidge sitting there, eating out of a huge bag of chips and wearing what looked suspiciously like a Snuggie.

“He means well. Don’t worry about it. Any of it. Keith likes you a lot, and this will go fine. See ya, Hunk!” she had also clicked off the call.

 

Lance had been letting himself inside the Garrett’s house ever since they could be trusted with keys, so it was no surprise when he heard his best friend clattering up the stairs, calling down after him “And Good Afternoon to you too, Papa Garrett!” at Hunk’s dad, who was probably doing crosswords and didn’t even acknowledge Lance in the first place.

Lance had stood in the doorway to his bedroom, giving him a once over before sighing.

“What, is it your first day of school?” he’d commented, before digging through Hunk’s clothes for something he deemed appropriate. Ten minutes later Hunk was dressed in a pair of dark wash jeans and a yellow and green plaid button up, shrugging on his jacket and making sure he had his phone, wallet and keys.

“Much better. I swear if Keith wears his Uggs on this date I will teleport to the restaurant and kill him myself after the effort I’ve put into making you look date worthy. Now go get ‘em, tiger!” he’d announced, smacking his larger best friend on the back as they both went downstairs.

+++

The date, had, of course been fine. Great even. He picked Keith up at six on the dot, and the skater had climbed into his jeep looking flushed and excited, wearing a pair of black jeans, a black and white striped vneck shirt and red sweater, and thankfully, no Uggs. Although Hunk wouldn’t have minded if Keith had shown up in sweatpants and one of those oversized wolf shirts, but he somehow thought Lance would be able to sense a disturbance in the force if the soft boots in question had been present, and didn’t doubt for a minute he’d be above driving to the restaurant and making a scene.

Hunk had chosen a nice little bistro downtown, and it went off without a hitch. He couldn’t believe he’d been so nervous, they were already so comfortable with one another, that this was no different than their after practice hang outs on the bleachers; except it was just the two of them in the corner of the restaurant, laughing and talking about their day, the gentle touch of fingers as their hands sat on the table.

After dinner Hunk had suggested ice cream, but Keith had made a face at the suggestion. “What, don’t like ice cream? Don’t wanna be cold? Don’t want to be on this date anymore, I can..” he trailed off, realizing he was rambling out loud. Keith was laughing. “No! I’m just lactose intolerant. I’m having a great time, I promise” he smiled warmly up at Hunk, placing his hand on his broad arm gently. Hunk felt himself relax, and Keith suggested a frozen yogurt place that he knew had lactose free options a few doors down.

As they walked their hands brushed, and Hunk was the one who linked their fingers together, smiling as Keith squeezed back. They stayed at the frozen yogurt shop until closing, laughing and talking, Hunk retelling some particularly exciting hockey stories, including the one where he’d been smashed into the goal and glass, suffering a broken nose and blood all over his face. Keith winced at the stories of injuries, despite having ripped up his leg, which was probably ten times worse than any injury Hunk had gotten playing hockey.

“S’Why my nose is a little crooked” he’d added, tapping his nose.

“I never noticed” Keith smiled, leaning forward to look closer. Hunk blushed.

After that, Hunk drove Keith home, taking the long way, before reluctantly pulling into his neighborhood. He was about to say something, but was cut off by Keith leaning over the center console, placing a hand on his broad arm and pulling him forward into a kiss.

They parted, and Keith looked beautiful, eyes closed, thick lashes, lips slightly parted and soft blush making its way clear up to his ears, up under his thick, dark hair.

“I had a nice time tonight. Thanks for finally asking me out” he smirked, laughing quietly when Hunk laughed.

“I did too. Any chance we could uh… do it again?” he asked quietly, glancing over to the skater’s hand on his arm, thin fingers gripping softly at the soft plaid fabric.

“What, the date or the kissing?” Keith asked airily, violet eyes glancing down his barrel of a chest and back up to his face, smirking, before nosing him into another soft kiss.

“Both. Both is good” he’d said between the kisses, leaning forwards into them, reaching his own hand over across the middle console to rest at the smaller’s waist.

“I’d invite you in, but Shiro’s home, and, well, you know…” Keith trailed off after they had parted, having gotten out of the vehicle and standing in front of Hunk’s jeep, fingers linked and tugging at one another. Tiny snowflakes had started to fall were getting caught in the skater’s thick, dark locks as he inched closer, bumping chests.

“Hey, come to the diner tomorrow morning? They make a mean omelet. It’ll just be me and the guys, no hockey team…” Hunk invited, speaking quietly, snaking a hand around the other’s thin waist and pressing him closer, Keith’s hands resting on his chest, running thumbs softly on the buttons at Hunk’s shirt collar.

“Okay” he agreed with a gentle smile. They kissed a few more times in the street, soft and sweet, before the porch lights came on, signaling that Shiro knew they were out there and it was time for Keith to come inside. Keith pulled him down for one more kiss before running inside, waving over his thin shoulder at the hockey player. Hunk drove home in a happy daze, climbing the stairs and collapsing on his bed, sighing happily. He felt like he’d been struck by lightning, but in a good way. His whole body was humming happily as he showered and got ready for bed – glancing down as his phone chirped and vibrated on the counter.

 **[Keith Kogane | 10:34pm: ]** I really did have a great time. You’re really fun to be around (:

The next morning he met Lance and Pidge at the diner, but no Keith. He kept looking over his shoulder whenever the front door bell would tinkle, and down at his phone. Keith hadn’t replied to his text from that morning either.

“I thought you said the date went well and that he’d be here. He doesn’t seem like he sleeps in…” Lance said, mouth full of hash browns. As if on cue, the front door tinkled open, and there stood Keith, wearing black jeans, Uggs, Hunk’s hoodie and jacket with fur on the hood, big aviator sunglasses and hair bouncy and down. Looking like a damn model as he checked his phone.

“Keith!” Pidge chirped, waving, and Hunk smiled over his shoulder as Keith took off his sunglasses and bounced over, sliding into the booth next to the larger boy. Hunk instinctively put his arm around his thin shoulders, feeling warm under his soft gaze.

“Welcome to our band of misfits” Pidge had announced as Keith sat down, motioning with her arm at the grandeur of their beat up corner booth, where the stuffing was coming out, and the table was scratched, and the silverware hardly ever matched.

“Finally. Getting you to come hang out with us was like pulling teeth, dude” Lance said, rolling his brown eyes, but grinning.

“Happy to finally be here” Keith replied, smiling.

++++++++++

Keith had finally gotten comfortable coming to the diner with Hunk after practice, flopping down in the booth next to Hunk, like Lance had said, attached at the hip. Hunk easily put his arm around the back of the booth, Keith resting into it and his shoulder, smiling up at him. One of the first times Keith had agreed to come to the diner during the afternoon, Lance saw them enter and immediately stretched his leg up with surprising flexibility, “Hey Keith! Check out what I got!” pointing at a new pair of Ugg boots. Hunk had told him how soft they were, after staying the night at Keith’s on the night of the blizzard; and the next day Lance showed up at practice with some. Hunk suspected they were his sister’s, but Lance seemed proud of himself.

Keith’s first performance on the ice was fast approaching, and Hunk was nothing but encouraging and supportive leading up to it. He watched Keith practice with Allura, all grace and poise and long limbs stretched out, moving as if he was one with the ice and music. Apparently the only CD in the rink stereo booth was an old disc of country music, so most of the time Keith danced to an old [???] song, which Lance cackled at endlessly until he actually caught a glimpse of the routine. Keith’s poise and professionalism was apparently enough to even shut Lance up for a moment. [Music: ???]

Many afternoons at the diner Hunk and Keith had their heads pressed together, listening to songs from Keith’s phone when Lance and Pidge slid into the booth.

  
“What’re the lovebirds up to?” Lance asked, chin in his hands after waving enthusiastically to a tall redhead who did pairs skating. She flipped her long curtain of red hair over her shoulder and rolled her eyes, but literally nothing deterred the Cuban boy from his flirting.

  
“Trying to pick a song for my routine” Keith said simply, pulling out the white earbud and wrapping it up to put in his pocket.

  
“Hmm. I would pick. Anaconda, by Nicki Minaj” Lance replied, nodding once. They all stared at him.

  
“What? I like that song. You could make it work” he motioned towards Keith. The skater snorted with laughter, “Okay then” before the four of them started throwing out more song suggestions. Hunk watched Keith lovingly,  he loved when Keith laughed hard enough to snort. The first time he’d heard it, Hunk had been telling a ridiculous story about one of his and Lance’s many misadventures, making the dark haired boy laugh so hard he snorted. Keith had immediately covered his face, eyes wide and embarrassed. Hunk was still laughing, “Did… did you snort?” “I’m… so… sorry…” “No, that was adorable!!” It was apparently a trait he shared with his adoptive older brother, because Shiro would also snort when he laughed too hard, which was a bit jarring something so silly coming from such a handsome person. The first time they had heard Shiro snort with laughter was during a practice when the team was being particularly rowdy, and through a strange turn of events, about half of them had toppled one another over like dominos into a hockey player pile that made their coach laugh so hard he snorted. 

After their food was delivered (milkshakes all around, Hunk had petitioned for them to carry lactose free milk so Keith could enjoy one too) Keith spoke.   
  
“So…do you guys wanna come and watch me skate for the first time in a year?” he asked, not looking up from his food. “Hey, of course I’ll be there…” Hunk started to say quietly, interrupted by a “Hell yeah we’ll be there!” Lance announced, and Keith laughed out loud. Is this what having friends felt like?

 

A few weeks into their dating, Hunk realized they hadn’t discussed the “b” word, as Lance had put it. He had started driving Keith home most afternoons, and awkwardly stumbled around the question he’d been thinking about all day.

“So, Keith, uh…are you… are we..? Are you my … boyfriend, now?” he finally got out, avoiding looking at the skater straight on, running his fingers nervously on the steering wheel cover. He was taken by surprise when Keith leaned over the center console to pull him into a kiss by his shirt collar. They parted, Keith smiling deviously. “I was your boyfriend the minute you took me out on a date, Hunk. And you’re my boyfriend too, obviously” he replied, kissing him one more time before exiting the jeep and strolling up to the front door. If it was possible, Hunk’s ears might be steaming as he slumped down in the driver’s seat. God, he had it bad.

Keith had attended a few more of their hockey games, and winced every time someone got hit apparently. He sat right behind the coach’s bench and box, and waved shyly at his boyfriend out on the ice. Hunk couldn’t deny he seemed to play a little better when he knew Keith was watching, wanting to show off a little. He loved watching Keith cheer for him in the stands, and couldn’t help but milk it a little when he came off the ice, shaking his hair out, and Keith would lean over the wall towards him.

“Are you okay? That looked like an intense hit out there!” he’d ask worriedly, gathering his head in his hands. He started to say, Oh babe, I’m fine, because he was – but realized he could get a little sympathy.

 “I mean… I’m a little sore…” he’d murmured, having ditched his hockey padding and rubbing his neck as they left the arena, Hunk’s bag over his shoulder, and Keith’s arms wrapped around his other arm as they got to the parking lot.

“I’d think so, that other guy really slammed into you!” the skater replied worriedly. Honestly, the moment in question, Hunk hardly felt. He wore enough padding and was bigger than most of the other players besides the other team’s goalies, but his little boyfriend seemed concerned anyway. He leaned up against the jeep, relishing the soft hands now rubbing his neck as Keith leaned against him, pressing fingers up his nape and into his hair.

“Poor thing” he cooed, smiling up at his hard working boyfriend, watching as his eyes closed and thick brows soften and lean into his touch. Watching him play was really attractive, but he worried at all the hits he took. He knew his boyfriend was a big, strong guy, and could take a hit like it was nothing, but he still hated to see the slight bruising on his arms and legs. 

“How about we go back to my place and we can…rub all those hits out, huh?” he asked, whispering the last bit against Hunk’s lips as he stood on tiptoe. Hunk suddenly felt very warm in the cold night air, opening his eyes Keith left him, getting in the passenger seat and leaning out the window. “Coming, Hunk?”

+++

Hunk had picked Keith up early and driven him to the rink, there was a hockey game tonight, and Keith didn’t mind getting there early and getting a good seat behind the coach’s box so he could watch the game well. Hunk absolutey loved that his boyfriend liked coming to his games, loved smiling and waving at him from the ice, and showing off a little. He parked the jeep and jogged around to the passenger door, opening it with a flourish. Keith smiled at him laughing, climbing down from the car. He was wearing dark, ripped jeans and high top tennis shoes, and a red baseball shirt with a lion on the pocket and back. He grinned up at Hunk before a chill ripped through the air and he shivered, wrapping his arms around himself.

  
“S.. a little colder than I thought it was gonna be, huh?” he said, and Hunk regarded him with sympathy. Despite being a figure skater and spending lots of time on the ice, Keith preferred being cozy and warm and comfortable.

  
“Oh, well, hang on, babe, I think I have a jacket in here…” Hunk replied, slinging his equipment bag on his shoulder and unearthing a varsity jacket from the back seat. He hoped it didn’t smell… It was the deep green with white sleeves and with the hockey team’s logo and his name on the back – GARRETT 00. He rarely wore it, but smiled as he draped it over Keith’s small shoulders.

  
“There. Good?” he asked, cheeks getting a little hot watching his boyfriend being engulfed in the jacket that was almost three sizes too big for him. Keith was smiling softly to himself and blushing a little too, working his arms into the sleeves.

  
“Perfect” he replied, standing on his tip toes to plant a sweet kiss to Hunk’s lips.

They walked into the rink with Hunk’s arm around his shoulders, Keith engulfed in the boyfriend jacket with Hunk’s name emblazoned across the back. He couldn’t help but feel a little proud. He walked Keith to his seat in the stands and kissed him one more time before leaving for the locker room.

  
“Cheer loud for me, okay, babe?” he asked quietly, grinning. Keith wound his hand in the larger’s shirt and pulled him down for another kiss, “Obviously” he smirked.

"Is he wearing your jacket, dude?” Lance had shrilled when they skated onto the ice. "What a power couple!" he laughed. 

++++++

Hunk drove Keith home almost every day after practice, and usually being invited in under some excuse or another – but every excuse usually translated to making out on the couch and some seriously heavy petting underneath clothes and waistbands. Every kiss left Hunk breathless, and he vaguely found himself wondering, where’d you learn to kiss like that? But realized he didn’t really want to know the answer. Most of these make out sessions were cut short by the sound of Shiro’s key in the lock, and Keith would pull away from him immediately, and move to the almost opposite end of the couch, pulling his shirt down and trying to brush his hair down with his fingers (Hunk was pretty handsy, finding himself running fingers through all that thick, dark hair and relishing in the slight moan that a slight tug to said hair elicited). Shiro would walk in and greet them warmly, asking about their days and being generally welcoming of Hunk into their home.

Hunk didn’t think much of any of this, until one evening when he went to leave for the night, Keith walking him to the door and Shiro still on the couch, watching a recap of a hockey game that had been on tv earlier. Hunk shrugged on his jacket and scarf, smiling as Keith tugged gently at the corner of his sleeves, always looking pouty and sad and cute whenever Hunk had to go home.

  
“Ah, well, I’ll see you tomorrow, Keith…” he started, and leaned in to kiss the smaller’s cheek, but Keith ducked his head and took a step away, arms crossed and looking over his shoulder, giving Hunk a strange look. Hunk couldn’t decide why that bothered him, but tried to chalk it up to maybe Keith was just shy about being affectionate with his boyfriend around his older brother.

But he had never known Keith to be shy, especially not when it came to their relationship. Keith would kiss the goalie right in front of all his team mates, barely even a blush when they hollered and hooted at them. He had no problem cuddling up close to him in the booth at the diner, regardless of if Lance and Pidge or anyone else was watching, and the dark haired skater definitely had no qualms about swinging those long legs over the center console of Hunk’s jeep, settling into the larger’s lap, and pressing the hottest and most amazing kisses into his boyfriend’s lips.

That moment at the doorway of the townhome fleeted around his mind for the next few days, and pieces started coming together when Keith pushed away from his arms one afternoon at the rink as Shiro approached.

“I…does… does your brother not know we’re dating?” he’d asked the next day, the realization dawning on him, finally. It was one thing to push away from making out when your older brother walked in, but Keith would push his arms away from being around his waist, drop his hand, and scoot almost two seats away from him whenever Shiro approached. Keith looked away guiltily at the question, sitting in Hunk’s jeep in the parking lot outside the diner one evening.

  
“Keith” he tried again, and his boyfriend sighed loudly, hitting his head on the headrest.

  
“No. I haven’t told Shiro that we’re… we’re dating. He just thinks we’re ….friends.”

  
Hunk stared in disbelief, then looking around like he was looking for confirmation that he’d heard what he’d just heard.

  
“Do.., do you think we’re just friends?” he’d asked, voice cracking. Keith sighed dramatically again, looking over at him with an expression of annoyance and adoration.

  
“Of course I don’t think we’re ‘just friends’. Do you not remember making out an hour ago at the rink?” he’d replied incredulously. Hunk, of course, did remember, Keith pulling him into an empty studio space after practices that afternoon and furiously kissing him, until Hunk had him against the wall, Keith’s long legs around his waist. Just friends didn’t exactly do that, he guessed.

“So why doesn’t Shiro know? I mean, he knows you’re gay, doesn’t he?”

  
“Of course he knows I’m gay. He’s known since I was like, eleven. I didn’t even know until I was thirteen.”

  
“Then why doesn’t he know about us?!” Hunk had squeaked a little. Keith went quiet again. Hunk slumped back in his seat, rubbing his temples. They sat in silence for a few moments, before Hunk spoke again.

  
“It’s…it’s not because you’re… embarrassed of me, or something, is it? Because –“ he started a little sadly, but Keith cut him off.

  
“I'm not embarrassed, Hunk, you're amazing. And I haven’t told him, because if he finds out I’m dating his star goalie, he’ll make me break up with you. He’ll think I’m too much of a distraction for you, and Allura will probably think you’re distracting me from my lessons, too.”  

Hunk stared.

  
“What?” he almost laughed, but realized his boyfriend was being one hundred percent serious; his violet eyes looking up at him, eyebrows furrowed in slight worry.

“I… you realize we’re in our twenties, right? He can’t really tell you who you can and can’t date..”

  
“But he can easily keep me away from you” Keith replied quietly, now looking out over the dashboard, suddenly looking sad. Like maybe he’d experienced that before, or maybe the thought was too much for him to bear. Hunk readjusted in his seat, a little at a loss for words.

“Is that really what you think he’ll do? Try and keep us apart?” Hunk finally asked, quietly, watching as his little boyfriend sat in the passenger seat, one knee up at his chest, arms crossed, red and orange lights from the diner illuminating his frame. Keith shrugged his thin shoulders, turning back to face him, eyes full of sadness. 

“I mean. It’s the worst thing I can imagine. I'm kind of a...worst case scenario kind of thinker, I guess” the dark haired boy trailed off, looking back down at his feet.   

They left it at that for a few days, but Hunk couldn't help but take it a little personally whenever his hand was dropped or pushed away; gently, but with purpose. He realized that it made him upset - everyone else could know about their relationship; his teammates, his friends, but not Shiro, who was probably the most important person in Keith's life. 

"It's not like your family knows about me" Keith had scoffed at him one afternoon when Hunk had tried to casually bring it up again, watching Keith at his practice. Keith had paused at the rink wall to take a swig of his water. Hunk blinked. "Yes they do" he answered. His parents had always been loving and supportive of his hobbies and relationships, his mother especially. 

"They really want to meet you, actually" he added. Keith's eyes went wide for a moment, as if the comment had activated his fight or flight reaction. "they do?" he asked, eyebrows furrowing. 

"Yeah, my mom loves figure skating. She watches the winter Olympics religiously. She's dying to meet you actually, but i haven't asked yet, since..." he trailed off, shrugging. He shouldn't be this bothered, he supposed, but he wasn't going to arrange a meeting between his boyfriend and his parents if said boyfriend wouldn't even admit to his older brother and guardian that they were dating first. 

Keith said nothing, pursing his lips before skating off, leaving his boyfriend in an ever annoyed silence. 

+++

"Does it really bother you that much?!" Keith had exclaimed at him finally, after an off handed comment from Hunk under his breath about yet again not being "out" together to Keith's brother.

They had been hanging out with the rest of the team near the trophy case in the lobby of the rink, Keith sidled up next to him, pressed comfortably into his side, one of Hunk's arms around his waist and hand resting on his waist, Keith's hand resting on his chest while they laughed and chatted with Hunk's teammates and their respective partners. Shiro had come ambling down the stairs, on his way to his small office inside the rink, wearing his own workout gear, and the team all bid him farewell; and amoungst the voices, Hunk's smile fell off his face as Keith pulled away from his slot against his boyfriend, looking sad and guilty as they watched Shiro walk by,  
  


"I... yes, yes it does bother me that much!" Hunk had exclaimed. He wasn't one to raise his voice or be disagreeable, but he could no longer deny that Keith's refusal to tell his only family member about their relationship really hurt his feelings. 

They had gone outside into the parking lot, standing next to Hunk's jeep, wind sharp and biting on their cheeks. The cuteness of the soft pink of Keith's cheeks and nose was lost on Hunk, because his little boyfriend's arms were crossed defiantly across his chest and his brows were knit together. He had his army green jacket with the fur around the hood zipped up to his chin, bright red scarf around his neck, dark curls blowing in the wind. 

"I know we've only been dating a few months, but I really like you, Keith! I want you to meet my parents, they wanna meet you, and I know how important Shiro is to you, it just... it just doesn't seem... it doesn't seem like..." he trailed off, scared by the finishing words of that sentence. Keith's face softened for a moment before returning to his regular grumpy cat expression. 

"Doesn't seem like what?" 

"Doesn't seem like you like me as much I like you" Hunk finished, shrugging his shoulders, looking defeated.  

Keith stared at him like he had just gotten slapped, eyes wide, as if the thought had never occurred to him until just now. It hadn't, really, he had been so preoccupied with being afraid of how Shiro might react that he never imagined what it must feel and look like on the other side to Hunk. Truthfully, Keith had never brought a boyfriend home to meet his older brother. Keith had never had a serious, real boyfriend; not really. Most of his relationships and dates hadn't lasted very long or had been very casual - and something he was slightly ashamed of now, a few of them had been even more secret because they had been with Shiro's older friends. Hunk Garrett seemed too good to be true - even now, after months and months of flirting and stolen touches and glances and finally officially dating - Keith was waiting for the other shoe to drop. There was no way someone like the goalie could possibly want to stick around this long, right? No way he'd want to stay, no way he'd want to get to know his older brother, no way he'd want to come over and watch hockey games on weekends, or cook them dinner in their tiny kitchen, or join them on their weekly burrito bowl food truck outings... 

He felt so stupid. Hunk had done all of that and more, been kind and sweet and caring every step of the way. No one had ever been this genuine and gentle with the skater, and he suddenly felt ashamed of his refusal to share this relationship with his only remaining family. 

With that thought, Keith grabbed Hunk's hand and dragged him back inside, down to where the coach's offices were without a word. 

"Keith, babe, where are we going -" 

"You're right, Hunk, I've been really stupid about this whole thing. So..." he trailed off, opening up the hockey coach's office door without so much as a knock. 

There sat Shiro at his desk, smiling up at Allura, who was perched on the corner of the desk elegantly, both of them laughing with one another. They both looked up at the intrusion, two sets of expertly manicured eyebrows raised. 

"Keith? Is everything okay?" Shiro asked. "Hi, Hunk." Hunk waved weakly. 

"I have something to tell you, Shiro. You too I guess" the dark haired skater nodded over to his figure skating coach. Allura cocked her head, a small smile on her face, light curls falling off her shoulder as she did. There was always something sparkling in her blue eyes, like she knew something no one else did. 

Keith's hand stand wrapped around Hunk's firmly, looking like a marshmallow still zipped up in his jacket, cheeks still pink and flushed from marching in here and nervousness. 

"Shiro. Allura. I just wanted to tell you. That Hunk and I are dating. He's my boyfriend and has been for a few months now. And I don't care what you think about it!" he finished triumphantly, eyes looking a little crazy. Hunk swallowed heavily, glancing from his flustered little boyfriend over to his older brother and coach. Shiro and Allura exchanged glances with one another, neither looking particularly surprised, actually looking more amused than anything else. 

"Oh. Were... were we... was I not supposed to know..?" Shiro finally asked, leaning forward with his elbow on the desk, chin in hand, trying but failing to hide a grin. 

Keith made surprised little sound in the back of his throat, hand still cemented in Hunk's. 

"You knew?!" Keith finally blanched, and Allura laughed from behind her hand. 

"It wasn't really that hard to figure out. Hunk's always at our place, and I haven't seen you this happy and normal-acting in years, baby brother. And they whole trying to hide your hugs and hand holding and all that.... you're both really bad at it" he chuckled. "What I can't figure it is why you didn't tell me sooner, Keith. You know I like Hunk. I think it's great you two are together, you've really helped each other out these past few months, I think." 

They both looked at each other, Keith blushing under Hunk's relieved smile, feeling really silly about the whole thing now. Hunk confidently put his arm around Keith's waist again, smiling into his smaller boyfriend's curly hair, feeling like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. 

"He was afraid you would make him stop seeing me because we thought you'd both think we were distractions to one another" Hunk explained. Keith let out a dry laugh, pouting at seemingly everyone in the small office laughing at him. Shiro snorted with a laugh and Allura rolled her eyes. 

"You're not a little kid, no matter how much I love referring to you as my baby brother. I have no room to tell you who you can and can't date unless I think they're hurting you."  
  


"What on earth do you think this is, Romeo and Juliet?" Allura laughed. Hunk couldn't help but laugh back. 

"And I know Hunk here wouldn't hurt a fly. He's the only one of my players who's never been in a fight on the ice in all my years of coaching hockey. So, I trust you to never hurt my brother, right?" Shiro nodded over to the goalie. Hunk nodded back vigorously. 

"Besides" Shiro started again, standing from his desk and helping Allura down from her perch gently. "If anything I think you're playing better, Hunk, because you're trying to show off for this little squirt" Shiro smirked, crossing the small office to ruffle his brother's hair. Keith swiped his hand away, still pouting. 

 

After all that, and with an open invitation to every single taco night for the foreseeable future, the two of them finally left the Rink, laughing and happy. For a first argument, Hunk was glad they could work through it honestly and together. Keith Kogane really was something else. 

**Author's Note:**

> come yell at me about heith or this fic or cats on twitter @pancakepaladin  
> this is gonna be a lot of chapters so strap on in my dudes


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